Star Crossed
by Whatever Makes You Break
Summary: With her relationship with George on the rocks, doom and disaster haunting her dreams, and not to mention those Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests looming in the near future, it's no surprise a memorable year is in store for Winnie and the twins. Part II.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

_Star-Crossed_

–

_The most beautiful discovery true friends make  
is that they can grow separately without growing apart._

–

_**Author's Note: **__This is Part II of my "Crossed Series."  
Please read Part I, titled "__**Crossed Hearts**__" to understand this plot._

–

I sat on the ledge beside the enormous open window inside what was deemed my room for the last six weeks. It was a large room, a king-sized bed in the center with sheer, shimmering golden curtains surrounding the four-posts. I hadn't had my own room since Ginny was born, and I had found it difficult to sleep without any noise for the first week or so after arriving at Wood Manor. I missed the noise, I really did.

It was disturbingly silent within the elegantly decorated walls and sparklingly clean mahogany floors of the mansion that had been erroneously called a cottage by Oliver. Everything was always in order, virtually perfect. It was too perfect in my opinion. I felt rather out of place to be honest, my summers typically entailed mud fights, cookouts and bonfires with the occasional invention creation. At the Manor I found myself reading more than a student on holiday rightfully should, finding excuses to escape into the seaside town of Whitby which was almost as dry and formal as the home itself. Oliver had been gone much of the past couple weeks, making constant trips to several different Quidditch try-outs, leaving me alone. Finally, he had accepted an offer from Puddlemere United to be their new Reserve Keeper. I guess the starting Keeper was deciding whether or not to retire in the fall, so Oliver was hoping to claim the starting position by the first match of the year. I was extremely happy for him and so were his parents, though you really wouldn't know it.

Liam and Agatha Wood were as I anticipated they would be. They were older, in their mid-fifties and were more likely to be at work than in their beautiful home or with their equally beautiful son. They weren't hateful people, quite the opposite actually. Aggie had taken me shopping a few times, making time for me even with her busy schedule and Liam had taken the four of us out to dinner to the fanciest restaurants in the area on several occasions. However, their relationships between the three of them were rather shallow. Oliver's father only spoke to him about Quidditch and Aggie seemed to only speak fondly of me to him, no substantial or significant topics were ever touched upon. I could tell Oliver knew I had noticed, but wasn't keen on dabbling on the subject.

Aggie had taken me to a spa the second week I arrived, convincing me to trim six inches off my mop of hair. My hair was still longer than it rightfully should be, but it appeared much more healthy. It was even across the bottom as well, a straight line cut down my back, my locks so shiny it could blind someone in the daylight. I sort of liked it, probably because I didn't have the twins to distract me from silly feminine things as they usually did in July and August. She'd bought me a few skirts, and I even conceded and wore a couple. When I looked in the mirror I no longer recognized myself, I was this doll who was dressed up as someone else, and because I no longer knew who I was anymore, I was indifferent to the image reflecting back at me.

I imagined the twins would ridicule me for my new apparel choices, if they were around that is. I had heard no word from George since leaving Hogwarts, no letters, nothing. Fred wrote often, however, keeping me updated on family goings-on and invention ideas and critiques, acting like nothing had happened to compromise our friendship. He never once mentioned George, and I wager that was because George didn't want to be mentioned. I didn't ask about him, either, still too furious with him to inquire about his well-being. My blood still boiled at the idea of him and Alicia, the sheer audacity! I received at least a couple letters a week from both Molly and Ginny as well. Ginny wrote in a similar fashion as Fred, nothing of George but minus the inventions. Molly just rambled about how much she missed me and how badly she wanted me home. If she only knew how terribly I missed home... but I couldn't come home, not just yet.

Arthur had managed tickets to the Quidditch World Cup which would be played between Ireland and Bulgaria, an ironic competition considering my opposing family trees were from both countries. My alliance remained with Ireland. I'd agreed to meet the lot of them at the Cup a week in the future and would spend my remaining week before school began again back at the Burrow after much convincing from their end. Liam and Aggie had also gotten their hands on tickets, though surprisingly not as good as Arthur's. They had offered a seat to me, but I was forced to decline. I would have liked to go with them if the Weasleys weren't attending the match, but I was going to get to meet Oliver's aunt and Agatha's much younger sister, Caddy, her husband Felix and their little son Finnigan before separating myself from them.

The sun was setting from outside my window, the hillside was nearly concealing the reddening sun completely. I held my knee up against my chest, wrapping my arms around my bent leg and resting my chin upon my kneecap. I remembered the time Fred, George, and I had sneaked out when were eight and walked all the way to Nottingham to watch the sunset because Charlie had convinced us the sun changed to bright green before it turned to night. It was a total lie and we knew it, but it got us out of a whooping when we got home after midnight and blamed our ignorance on Charlie. I remembered the look on his face when Molly gave him a stern talking to for putting such foolish ideas in the heads of such innocent children... as if we were ever innocent.

I released a curt laugh that was more sad than anything, thinking of how hard the three of us had laughed and how much I missed their laughs. It suddenly hurt to breathe, the feeling of a sharp blade in my chest had returned. I guess I was so distracted by my thoughts that I didn't notice that I was no longer alone.

"You missed dinner again," said Oliver, leaning casually against the open door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I wasn't hungry," I lied, turning my attention to him and smiling weakly.

"Ah, I see," he nodded condescendingly, pushing himself off the door frame and striding over towards my enormous bed and hopping up onto the golden comforter that matched the currently tied back curtains. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with your obvious overwhelming homesickness."

I sighed heavily, hating how well he had begun to know me and stepped over to my bed, climbing up beside my boyfriend. I snuggled up beside him, resting my head upon his shoulder. His arm pulled me close against him as I hung my own arm over his chest, memorizing his heart's rhythm beneath his button down shirt and brown corduroy jacket. He'd just returned from a team meeting and it was obvious his mood was rather good. He looked up at the ceiling while I nestled myself in the crook of his side.

"It's not like I don't like it here," I said gently. "I love it, honestly, but I've never gone this long without seeing Fred and George. I miss them both, no matter how much of a prat George is being. I deserve it anyway."

"You deserved the grief Fred gave you," said Oliver, "but George has taken this too far, and I can understand why."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because he obviously has feelings for you–"

"Ollie–" I began nervously.

"'S alright," he grinned at my uneasiness. "I'm not upset, and I can hardly blame George for being upset himself. The two of you have spent your entire lives together, and right when he starts to realize he has feelings for you... he finds out that the one girl he fancies has a boyfriend and has for months."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, am I wrong?" he asked.

"I–I don't know," I lied, "but it doesn't matter. He's got Alicia now, if he does then he'll get over me soon enough."

"And you honestly believe that he is with Alicia because he fancies her?" Oliver smirked. "Come off it, Winnie, we both know he's only with her to try to make you jealous. Besides you don't even know if they're dating, you haven't heard word of anything."

"Well, his attempts to make me jealous not working," I frowned. "I could care less what he does."

"I'm just saying that's exactly what he's trying to do," he said, placing a quick kiss atop my forehead. "Don't go getting all up in arms over it."

"Me, up in arms?" I smirked, rolling over to straddle him. "I'm always cool as a cucumber, don't you worry."

I leaned down and kissed him zealously. Oliver smiled against my lips, playfully rolling me over onto my back and pulling away just for a moment to grin down at me. He seductively raised his eyebrows and I couldn't help but laugh at him, grabbing his collar to pull him down to my lips. Oliver was the only thing keeping my mind off how desperately I missed George, and I don't know if seeing my boyfriend as a distraction was a good thing exactly.

"As long as his feelings are one sided, I won't worry about anything," said Oliver hoarsely.

I swallowed hard and simply leaned in and kissed him once more.

–

_**A/N:**__ Yeah, this wasn't much, but I wanted to be able to post Part II so everyone can alert it etc. I'm going to at least wait until I get 25 reviews AT LEAST._

_**PS:**__ So we learn how miserable Winnie is whilst she's away from the Burrow...and George. She's changed her appearance to our surprise but will her new found femininity be here to stay? I mean, Winnie in a skirt? WHAT THE FRICK! _

_**PSS:**__ What do you want to see happen?_

_**Coming Soon: **__Winnie meets up with everyone at the Cup and gets one hell of an unpleasant surprise, George is still a git, the Burrow may not seem so appealing to return to after the World Cup after all..._

–

_**Review.**_


	2. Chapter 1: The World Cup

_**Chapter One**_

_The World Cup_

–

_Sometimes it's worse to win  
__a fight than to lose._

–

_People were running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field towards me, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward me; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene._

_A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Their faces were hidden, decorated by masks. The crowd began to swell. The marchers began to blast tents out of their way, setting them on fire. The screaming grew louder, causing my ears to nearly bleed from the pain. The fires were growing higher and higher, the smoke engulfing my throat. Sweat dripped from my forehead, streaming down my cheeks. Desperate footsteps were obvious, frantic calls for help in the background. Then without any hint or explanation, the Dark Mark was visible overhead, haunting my very being. I pleaded to Merlin to make it stop. More than anything I wanted my Mum, I wanted her back._

"NO!" I bellowed, shooting up from my slumber and gasping for air.

"Winnie?" called Oliver from the opposing room. "You alright?"

Oliver strode into my bedroom and looked at me in an understanding way.

"The dream again?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," I nodded slowly, steadying the rhythm of my beating heart. The dream had become increasingly frequent since my encounter with Trelawney when it initially crossed my mind. I was so terrified of the possibility it would come true that if I didn't need sleep to avoid the inevitable boredom whilst at Whitby I would be an insomniac. I prayed my nightmare would cease once I was in my usual environment, once I was home with the Twins.

–

"Did you tell Winnie exactly where to meet us tomorrow?" asked Molly Weasley, taking away her first twin son's bowl of stew.

"For the millionth time, Mum, I told her," said Fred, taking to his feet from the kitchen table. "She's meeting us at two o'clock."

"Wonderful, you lot will have so much fun," Arthur Weasley smiled and nodded his approval. "This is the longest time you three have been separated from one another. I bet you two can't wait to reunite with her."

"Oh, yeah," said George dispassionately, following after his twin brother. "I can hardly contain my enthusiasm."

Fred sent George a nasty glare, looking back at him over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs up to their shared bedroom. George shut the door behind them and fell back onto his bed as if he hadn't even noticed his twin sending him vindictive glares. He closed his eyes, resting his hands behind his head as if to prepare for a relaxing nap. Fred had other plans however, he snatched up his goose-feathered pillow and hurled it as hard as he possibly could at his brother. George flinched, picked up the pillow and threw it back.

"Oi, what was that for?" George grunted.

"For being a git," said Fred, catching his pillow with one hand and placing it back in its usual spot.

"What are you talking about?" he said, rolling his eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about," he insisted. "I'm sick of this stupid fight you're having with Winnie. Suck it up, get over yourself, and talk to her."

"After what she did–"

"Don't you think you've punished her enough?" Fred interrupted. "I mean, you know I'm the king of holding grudges but this is Freddie we're talking about. She's our best friend, and I think you've ostracized her long enough. The whole reason she didn't tell us was so we wouldn't react like this–"

"She didn't tell us because she thought we would sabotage her relationship with that pretty boy prat," George retorted fiercely.

"And she'd be right," said Fred. "We wouldn't have done it intentionally, but you know how we are. We tease her, and she'd probably eventually get tired of it and settle for a break-up."

"Why are you defending her?" asked George. "You said it yourself, you're always the one to overreact and hold grudges."

"Because Winnie is my best friend, and I love her," he said simply. "I tend to be a bit more empathetic when it comes to people I care about. I thought you'd feel the same... however, my feelings for Winnie are merely platonic while yours are–"

"Shut up, Fred," George muttered. "I feel nothing towards her."

"You kissed her," he replied simply.

"I should have never told you that," he frowned, rolling his eyes. "It didn't mean anything, I told you that."

"And Winnie's the liar..." said Fred, smirking to himself.

–

"All I'm saying is that I think I've been pretty agreeable thus far concerning the clothes thing, but I'm unwilling to budge in this instance," I said to Oliver, peering at my reflection in the full length mirror and looking at it with disgust as if it were a piece of dung.

It was a deep green three-quarter length cardigan sweater with a white camisole, I could deal with that bit. However, a matching plaid green skirt that was too short for my liking. Like I admitted before, I had caved and worn a skirt or two for Agatha's sake over the month and a half, but I was extremely opposed to wearing it to the World Cup. All I wanted to do was show up in my favorite ragged old jeans, Ireland sweatshirt and worn in sneakers. Yet, I knew Aggie intended on me looking somewhat presentable when she introduced me to her sister like I was a prized show dog or something. I was more concerned with what the twins would think of me in such an ensemble than what Oliver's ruddy aunt thought of my appearance.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" asked Oliver, peering up at me momentarily whilst he pulled on his socks off the corner of my bed. "It's only a skirt."

"I'm sorry, have we met?" I said sardonically, extending my hand though Oliver did not concede and shake it to feed my sarcasm.

"Yeah, yeah you don't like skirts," he replied dryly. "I get it."

"I don't just dislike them," I frowned. "I despise them, loathe them, hate them with every fiber of my being."

"You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think I am," I snapped. "Every time I put on one of those despicable things it's like I'm betraying my own character. I'm done pretending I'm something I'm not."

"You can tell me what's really bothering you," said Oliver all-knowingly. "You're just worried what the twins will think if they see you dressed up a bit."

"I don't care what they think," I lied.

"Liar," he smirked. "They're the only ones who you do care about what they think."

"That's completely untrue," I spat, "and to prove you wrong I'll wear the bloody thing, but I'm wearing my Chucks with it. I'm not wearing Mary Jane's again."

"Fine, whatever you say," he said apathetically, shrugging as he hopped off the edge of my bed.

I slid on my faded Chucks and adjusted my knee high socks. I snatched up my small backpack and followed Oliver, who insisted on lugging my baggage, down the hallway. I ceased my footsteps before we descended the stairs.

"Wait a minute," I said, having a sudden revelation. He'd psychologically dueled me and won. He tricked me into wearing the bleeding skirt because he knew we'd run into his bloody teammates and he wanted me to dress up to meet them. Witty git, I was really rubbing off on him. "Oh, you're good."

"I learned from the best," he smirked, winking at me before descending the staircase.

We were met at the bottom of the steps by the Wood's pudgy housekeeper, Beatrice, who appeared to have been upholstered into her apparel at all times. She's practically raised Oliver since the time he was just a baby. She was a strict yet kind old woman, always equipped with a witty remark if you cross her in the slightest. I loved the old gal. She reminded me a lot of Molly to be perfectly honest. Oliver looked around his housekeeper for his mum and dad, who were no where in sight.

"Where's Mum and Dad, B?" asked Ollie, turning his gaze back onto Beatrice. "They told us to meet them here–"

"Master Wood, your parents asked me to inform you that they were called away last minute on business and will be forced to meet you at your tent at the Cup," Beatrice explained. "They extended their utmost apologies."

"Oh, I'm sure they did," Ollie grumbled under his breath.

Oliver walked towards the nearby coat rack with determination and grabbed his favored corduroy jacket to yank on. He strode back to me and picked my bags back up off the ground, his expression rigid and bursting with displeasure. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and looked over at him.

"Are you alright?" I asked tentatively, picking May up off the ground to prepare for our departure.

"I'm fine, I'm used to it," he muttered. "You ready?"

"Yeah," I nodded solemnly.

It felt as if all the air had been pushed out from my lungs all at once. We began swirling into a pool of psychedelic tubes. It was as if I was drowning and soaring through the air at the exact same time. I was still unfamiliar with side-by Apparation. I landed flat on my face like a bleeding oaf. I lifted my head up and saw Oliver smirk as he looked down at me before hoisting me up off the ground by my arm. I dusted off my skirt and ran my fingers through my long hair, feeling like I had just been inside a whirlpool. I blinked several times before realizing we were atop the hill overlooking the camp.

"OK then?" asked Ollie, lacing his fingers with mine as he tossed my luggage over his shoulder.

"I may vomit," I admitted.

"That's to be expected," he smirked. "Try not to puke until after you meet the rest of my family though."

"No promises," I groaned, holding my stomach with May under my other arm who appeared unfazed.

"Come on," he smiled, pulling me towards the tents.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, I could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. We made our way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on me how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; I had never really thought much about those in other countries.

I looked down at the countless witches and wizards below us. My mouth hung a bit open at the wondrous scene below. It was amazing, breathtaking really. I'd never seen so many people in all my life, talking and laughing so loud that it echoed in my eardrums. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As we drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't – touch – Daddy's – wand – yecchh!"

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after us on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells – "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, we saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Oliver and I he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose–"

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. I caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents we passed, and though I couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

"Er– is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Oliver suddenly, grasping my attention.

It wasn't just Oliver's eyes. We had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind us, I heard our names.

"Winnie, Oliver darling!" called Agatha's voice as she hurried up behind us whilst Liam was no where in sight.

"Mum, Dad," said Oliver curtly. "I thought we were going to leave from the house together by car. You know, because Winnie isn't accustomed to Apparation."

"Oh, we're so terribly sorry, sweetheart," said Aggie. "The Bulgarian Minister of Magic was coming down with a terrible fever, and Cornelius asked your father to bring me along early to tend to him before the match."

"I see," Oliver nodded, not pleased with her excuse. "Where are–"

"Ollie!" called a child's voice from behind his parents.

A tiny boy, no more than three, with shaggy brown hair came wobbling out of the adjacent tent to run flat into Oliver's leg. He clasped onto Ollie's leg so tight that it nearly caused him to topple over. Oliver merely smiled broadly, abandoning his prior displeasure with his parents and lifted the little mite of a boy up onto his shoulders. The little brunette giggled furiously and held onto Oliver by his ears. I grinned at the scene before me, having never seen Oliver act in such a manner.

"Winnie," he began, still laughing to himself, "this is Finn, my cousin, and here coming are my Aunt Caddy and Uncle Felix."

"Oh, Finnigan, I told you not to go running off," started Caddy who looked identical to her older sister though her hair obtained no gray yet. Her husband was rather tall with light brown locks atop his head that hung almost before his square rimmed glasses. "Oliver dear, this pretty little thing must be the girl we've heard so much about."

"Finn, Cads, Felix this is Winnie McKinnon," he smiled, holding Finn steady before wrapping his free arm around my waist.

"Nice to meet you," I grinned, extending my hand to shake theirs.

"Pleasure, darling," Caddy beamed. "Aggie has told me so many good things about you."

"She is too kind," I replied.

"We were just about to go steal your father away from the Minister for a bit of souvenir shopping," said Agatha. "Would you two like to come along?"

"No thanks, Mum," said Oliver. "I was going to go introduce Winnie to my teammates before I drop her off at the Weasley's tent."

"Oh, alright then," said Aggie, nodding despondently.

"Bye, Finn," said Ollie, pulling his cousin from his shoulders and tickling him. "S' go, Win."

"It was nice meeting you," I said, knowing Oliver wanted to leave quickly. He passed Finnigan on to his father, took me by the arm and yanked me towards the other direction before I could give anyone a proper goodbye.

"Meet us by our tent at two, Oliver dear," called his mother before we disappeared.

"Yes, Mother," he frowned.

I couldn't relate to having a desire to avoid contact with my family and by family I mean the Weasleys. Excluding my situation with George, I loved every second spent with those goofy redheads. I mean, we liked each other's company. As annoying as Percy is I've still never minded him enough to abruptly leave him when we were all together that is. I wasn't accustomed to the way the Wood family ticked. It was very bizarre to me. I never brought up my concerns to Oliver because I knew it was a subject he didn't want to ever address, either for embarrassment reasons or just because it hurt him too much.

Instead of spending time with his family, Oliver wanted to spend time with people who he would soon consider to be his new family: Puddlemere United. A group of them stood in a circle under a banner that was decorated with their team colors. A few were playfully wrestling while the rest were busy chugging down beer. The majority looked to be in their early thirties with a couple appearing to be Oliver's age. I felt a bit nervous walking up behind Oliver, his fingers laced in mine.

"Ah, look boys, it's Wood!" called a bulky man, not boy but man. He appeared a tad bit too pudgy to be a professional Quidditch player, looking far past his prime. He forcefully pulled Oliver forward and patted him harshly on the back, knocking the wind out of him before shoving a full pint in his hand.

"Cheers, O'Grady," said Oliver awkwardly, looking small in comparison to the burly Irishman. If Oliver Wood's stature seemed tiny one can only imagine how I measured up. I looked like a mite. I remembered the name "O'Grady" from one of Oliver's numerous Quidditch rambles. O'Grady was the aging Keeper that he would be replacing soon. It was no wonder. I questioned how a broom managed to lift the man off the bloody earth to begin with.

"This is my–"

"This lassie must be yer ole lady then?" he chuckled drunkenly, extending his plump hand for me to shake. "Mick O'Grady, little girl, I'm–"

I really did not appreciate being called an old lady or a little girl, but I most despised being referred to as a possession.

"Let me guess," I said sardonically. "You must be the grandfather of one of the players. It's so great to see someone your age so active–"

"Winnie," Oliver scolded, sending me a harsh glare before smiling apologetically at the neanderthal.

"Ye sure got yerself a feisty lass, Wood," the man laughed loudly, utterly unfazed by my crude comment. "I'd 'old on tah this one if I were ye."

O'Grady wrapped his arm around my upper arms and pulled me against him, giving me a bone crushing hug beside him that caused me to almost squeeze May to death. He smelt of sweat and alcohol, and I resisted the urge to vomit. The rest of the team chuckled hardily along with Oliver who was enjoying my discomfort. I couldn't care less about seeing Oliver's teammates. Don't get me wrong I guess meeting professional Quidditch players was cool or whatever, but I was the girlfriend of one and I was less than impressed with them. All that mattered to me was seeing Fred and George... even if he didn't want to see me.

"I'll do my best," Ollie smirked.

I sat around with Puddlemere United, feeling a bit out of sorts as I was the only female. The players were very boisterous and er– Irish. I found it difficult to concentrate on anything except my extreme desire to return to the Weasleys. I missed them so much it hurt. When my wristwatch turned to one-fifty I could barely contain my excitement. I gently placed my hand on Oliver's arm and smiled up at him, interrupting his conversation with their Seeker, Hensley.

"It's almost two," I said quietly.

Oliver nodded his understanding and picked up my bags beside him.

"I need to go drop off Winnie," said Oliver. "I'll meet up with you lot in a bit."

"Bring 'er wit ye to tah bonfire we're having tonight," said O'Grady loudly, swinging his pint. "Yer still comin' right?"

"Yeah, I'll be there after Ireland wins," said Oliver, earning loud cheers from his teammates.

–

I recognized the tents that belonged to the Weasleys at once. Fred had created a makeshift sign reading "Weasleys" to be propped up outside the temporary homes. I had to restrain myself from running. I dropped May onto the floor, and she instinctively ran inside the slip in the tent. I heard a couple calls that I must have arrived judging by May's appearance, so I darted towards the tent, throwing back the slip to see my loved ones. I bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt my jaw drop. I had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. It was furnished in exactly the same sort of style an old woman would decorate: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats. Oliver followed in behind me, carefully creating a pile of my things against the wall.

I didn't have time to situate myself to my new surroundings because I was swooped up into a bear-like hug by Fred before I could finish a breath. He spun me around while I laughed at him, harder and more genuinely than I had in over a month. I wrapped my arms snugly around his neck and placed an enormous sloppy kiss on his forehead. He set me down on the ground again, took me delicately by the hand and spun me as if to get a good look at me.

"I barely recognized you, Freddie," he chuckled. "Where have you been hiding those legs? We would have liked to have a look–"

"Fred," I warned, elbowing him in the gut to shut him up and nod towards Oliver.

"Oh hey, Wood," Fred laughed.

"Hey there, Fred," Oliver laughed in reply shaking his hand hardily.

"Winnie!" Ginny exclaimed, giving me a huge hug before Arthur followed suit. Ron, Harry and Hermione were off causing shenanigans no doubt. Percy, Charlie and Bill had yet to arrive but George was unaccounted for.

"I heard you were signed to Puddlemere, Wood," said Arthur, patting him roughly on the back. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you, sir," he grinned, choking slightly from the abrupt slap on the back.

"Well, you just missed the trio– well, the younger trio," said Arthur, implying the twins and I were the older trio. "They went to fetch water for us all. The three oldest should be here soon, and George is... oh, here he comes–"

I bit my tongue to fight a smile, turning to look at the entrance. I was nearly pushed beside Oliver as the tornado of human beings shot into the tent. I almost vomited at the sight before me. George was accounted for now, no denying that but by looking at the parasite clawing onto his arm, so was Alicia Spinnet. They were mid jovial laugh when they laid eyes on me, they're smiles instantly faded. Fred and Ginny hadn't mentioned Alicia and George were still carrying on with their charade, not one word in all of those letters even slightly hinted at them continuing a relationship. I was livid, it would have been nice to have a heads-up. Maybe if I knew beforehand I wouldn't feel like I'd been slapped across the face with the reality of Alicia being a guest along with Harry and Hermione. I glared at the over-dressed strawberry blonde, narrowing my eyes to slits.

"Oh, Winnie," said Alicia. "I forgot you were coming, what a surprise."

"Oh, Alicia," I spat. "I forgot you existed, what a disappointment."

I heard Fred snort a laugh along with Ginny, and I swear on my life that for one half a second I saw George's face rear-up for a laugh but fought it off before it could be released. I must have been hallucinating.

"Hi George," I said with venom on my tongue.

"Hi Winnie," said George reluctantly. He probably wouldn't have addressed me had his father not been present. He sneered blatantly when his eyes shifted onto Oliver. "Wood."

"Weasley," Oliver nodded at George, matching his hatred with his glare.

"Tell me, Oliver, would you be so kind as to indulge us with your presence for dinner," asked Arthur, George's face in shock. "We've already got Alicia staying with us, we can surely accommodate one more."

"Thank you, sir, but my parents are already expecting me," said Oliver kindly, "In fact, I'm late to meet them now. I best head off."

George's face almost seemed to relax at that response. However, my next move caused his face to become rigid once again once I turned to Oliver and purposely kissed him longingly in front of the happy couple.

"I'll see you soon," I said quietly. "Love you."

I meant it.

"I love you too," said Oliver, cupping my face in his palms and leaning in to whisper something in my ear. "You know where my tent is. If for any reason you need to get away just come and stay with me."

"Expect me later," I said sadly, kissing him once more before he departed.

There was no way in bleeding hell that I would share a room with Alicia Spinnet.

–

Oliver left me alone with Fred and the gruesome twosome. Ginny went off to help her father prepare for dinner.

I saw George look me up and down with an indifferent expression whilst Alicia's face screamed disgust.

"Winnie, I didn't know you could manage to wear something feminine," said Alicia snidely, snuggling up closer to George.

"Sod off, Alicia–" started Fred viciously.

"Fred–" George defended his little girlfriend in a warning tone.

"No, Fred, it's alright," I said coyly, patting his chest. "I'm not offended. I'm just surprised she can manage to formulate a proper sentence considering she's functionally illiterate. I mean, really, good for you, dear. Now did you have to write that on your hand or did you memorize that all by yourself?"

"There's no need for hostility," said Alicia as if she was Mother-bloody-Teresa.

"Oh, sweetheart, you don't know the meaning of the word hostility," I sneered. "Literally. Now if you'll excuse me, Fred, may I have a word?"

I gripped his upper arm tightly and yanked him fiercely outside.

"Christ, Freddie, what?" he groaned, pulling away from me.

"Why didn't you tell me about George and Alicia?" I asked.

"Why would I have to?" he asked defensively.

"Common courtesy," I retorted.

"Why does it matter?" he asked.

"I– I don't know," I stammered, my hands falling from my hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you two are in a fight and you supposedly bare no romantic feelings for him, so why would it be necessary to mention it to you?" he replied. "And there's the fact that he asked me not to tell you..."

"Now why would he do that?" I inquired.

"Oh, I dunno, Winnie," said Fred in an annoyed tone. "You tell me, because apparently everything I say is bullocks."

I sighed heavily. It wasn't Fred who I was furious with. It was just upset with coming face-to-face with Alicia and George together. If I had been placed in his situation I would have done the same thing. I stepped forward and wrapped my arm around his waist so he could sling his arm over my shoulder and pull me against him for a mock hug.

"I'm sorry," I conceded. "It's not you I'm mad at."

"I know, mate," he smirked, rubbing my upper arm affectionately. "I know."

"Er– sorry to interrupt, but Winnie dear," a familiar voice interrupted. Arthur was peeking his head out through the flap. "May I have a quick word?"

"Sure, Arthur," I nodded, releasing Fred and allowing him to follow me back into the tent only to see Alicia fiddling with George's shaggy red hair. I gagged and rolled my eyes at them.

Arthur pulled me aside by the stove (that he still had not figured out how to start) and lowered his voice to speak to me, leaning in.

"Molly and I have been corresponding with Dumbledore about your er–" he began delicately.

"Me being a Seer or whatever," I frowned, sighing heavily.

"Well, yes," he said, surprised with my response. "We were concerned for you, but I insisted you would talk about it with us when you were ready. That's why you weren't pressed for information in our letters. However, I also know you, and how you downplay everything no matter the severity, so I had to indulge my curiosity. So how are you doing, Winnie?"

"I'm fine," I said simply. "I'm not letting the reality of my situation get the better of me."

"Situation?" Arthur scoffed. "I think it's a bit more than just a situation. Winnie, do you even realize how rare of a gift this is, how lucky you are?"

"I wish everyone would quit trying to convince me this is some sort of a blessing," I replied. "I don't want this burden on me."

"I understand you're frightened–"

"I'm not frightened of it," I interrupted. "I'm angry. I'm angry I have to live with nightmares so terrifying that I wake up screaming for my mother. I'm angry I have no idea whether a dream is just a dream or if I'm having another vision. I'm angry I despise going to sleep. I'm angry this is happening to me."

"I understand," he said.

"With no offense intended, Arthur, you don't understand," I said despondently. "You can't, no one can. I just can't wait to figure out how to control it, for everything to be alright again if that's even possible."

"It will be," said Arthur kindly, pulling me into a hug. "You're going to be alright, sweetheart, trust me."

Like it always did, Arthur's simple gesture made me feel much better.

"Thanks, Arthur," I said, hugging him back as he petting the top of my head.

–

I spent my time waiting for the trio to bring back water by sitting awkwardly next to Fred, watching Arthur attempt to start a fire all the while Alicia and George played tonsil hockey. I tried not to look at them, knowing that was what they wanted. I kept speaking erratically to Fred about nonsense, and I could tell he knew what I was trying to do. Finally, Harry, Ron and Hermione returned with the water we needed, giving me an excuse to speak normally by greeting them theatrically.

"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the tent.

"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down after hugging me. "You've not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.

Arthur was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

At last he got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while we waited, however. Our tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Arthur cordially as they passed. Arthur kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children, me included, knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office… Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now… Hello, Arnie… Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know… and that's Bode and Croaker… they're Unspeakables…"

"They're what?" asked Harry.

"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to…" said Arthur.

At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

I hadn't seen Bill in over a year, and I was jealous they all had gotten the chance to see him before me. I leaped up into his arms and hugged him tightly. He picked me up off the ground and placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek. He set me back on the ground and held me by the shoulders, looking me up and down.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he teased. "Have we met before? You look an awful lot like this girl I know, Winnie McKinnon, but you look much too grown-up to be her."

"Shut up, Bill," I laughed, punching his arm. "I missed you too."

That was his way of telling me he missed me. I scooted to the second oldest Weasley boy and hugged Charlie, who ruffled my hair in response.

"Hey Freddie," said Charlie. "What happened to you, you look right pretty?"

"Gee thanks, Charlie," I smirked.

"I just mean, I've never seen you in a skirt before," he laughed. "If I were a few years younger–"

I elbowed him in the gut, knowing he was joking.

"And your sexuality switched from dragons to women," I teased. "We'd be a perfect couple."

I turned to Percy as if I was about to hug him but instantly ceased my motion and hugged my own chest instead.

–

We were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Arthur jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them.

"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person I'd had seen so far. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, I thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming… and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements… Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air. Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression. I rolled my eyes beside Fred, spotting George do the same thing from across the table.

"Ah - yes," said Arthur, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny, Winnie McKinnon, then Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. I felt bad for Harry, feeling a sudden pang of pain in my own scar. I knew my scar was noticeable, and I understood how he felt when people noticed it especially when Harry's is so infamous.

"Everyone," he continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh… go on then," said Arthur. "Let's see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well… any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Arthur. "Molly wouldn't like -"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

My eyes grew so wide that I was surprised they didn't fall out of their sockets. My jaw dropped as I nudged Fred so hard that I thought I may have broken his rib. I leaned in low so my lips were beside his ear as he organized their coins.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I hissed. "Betting your savings on a Quidditch match!"

"It's a sure thing," Fred said, leaning his elbows forward on the table to look over at me.

"Nothing is ever a sure thing," I insisted quietly.

"Stop being such a worrywart, and get one of the trick wands from your bag," said Fred, flashing me his infamous crooked grin.

I released a heavy sigh, signaling my concession and bent over to pull out a trick wand from my bag. I reluctantly placed the wand into Ludo's pudgy fingers, his childish curiosity increasing.

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," said Arthur, "I don't want you betting… That's all your savings… Your mother -"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want!"

"Age doesn't necessarily transfer to maturity level," I mumbled under my breath.

"You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance...I'll give you excellent odds on that one...We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..." said Ludo.

Arthur and I looked on helplessly as Ludo whipped out a notebook and a quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman looked down at me for a quick second, apparently realizing that I may be a foolish better like my two mates.

"What about you, my dear?" he smiled. "Care to put a wager on the match like your two...boyfriends?"

I immediately slammed my heel atop Ginny's foot to stop her from giggling like a buffoon.

"No, I think betting mass amounts of money is simply disgraceful," I said so bluntly that Ludo didn't even know what hit him.

"You're kidding," said Bagman in more of a statement than a question.

"If I was kidding I'd be wearing robes like your—"

"Winnie!" Arthur interjected suddenly to silence my insult, standing from his seat. "You forget some people aren't accustomed to your ever so unique sense of humor. She's only joking. Right, Winnie?"

"You know me," I conceded for Arthur's sake. "I'm just a barrel full of laughs."

The twins eyes were illuminated by the self-gratification they had received from the bet they had just placed. I turned my attention away from Arthur and Ludo and back onto Fred and George.

"We all know Ludo Bagman is right git, even if you do win your little bet, I wager he won't even pay you," I said to Fred, though I meant both of them to hear me.

"Have a bit of faith in people, Freddie," Fred teased lightheartedly. "Besides if we do lose our money we'll just borrow from you—"

"You already owe me a small fortune," I said, rolling my eyes and sporting a faint smirk.

"Lighten up, Winnie," Alicia interrupted, acting as George's spokesperson because he still refused to act as if I exist let alone speak to me. "The boys know what they're doing."

"Oh, shut up, Alicia," I said indifferently, swatting my wrist at her. "Quit trying to be a kiss ass. Fred will loathe you no matter how much fake support you toss his way."

"She's got a point, Leesh," Fred shrugged.

"George!" Alicia objected.

"What, would you prefer I tell her I disagree?" asked Fred to his twin before George could retort. "Then I'd just be a liar, George, and I'd much rather be a prick than a liar."

I smiled at Alicia with a victorious grin and turned back to the scene before us.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying," said Bagman. "Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…"

"Anyone can speak Troll," said George dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw George an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" asked Arthur as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside us all.

"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha… memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Arthur suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at the fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. I could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh is that what they're after?" said Ludo. "I thought the chap was trying to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent, you know."

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, knocking George roughly into me as he pushed through the three of us to get to Crouch. My skin stung from where he bumped into me. Percy sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like the bloody Hunchback of Notre Dame. "Would like a cup of tea, sir?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes — thank you, Weatherby."

Fred, George, and I snorted loudly in unison. Our day had been made. Percy, now very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"I don't think Crouch is aware that he just made Christmas come early," said George, leaning over to Fred.

"He's successfully wrapped Percy's ego up in a bow and bestowed it upon us to demolish," I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest gaudily.

"It's the gift that keeps on giving," Fred whispered, one side of his mouth curled up in a grin.

"So, keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Ludo looked utterly shocked.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun…Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman in a seemingly threatening manner. I looked at Fred, receiving a bewildered stare and a shoulder shrug.

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details—"

"Oh, details!" Bagman said as if Barty was making a big deal out of nothing, "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts—"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," Crouch snapped sharply, cutting Ludo's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

Crouch took a quick final sip from his cup and swiftly exited the tent, the silent Ludo Bagman in toe. The eight of us who were still in school were so overwhelmed with curiosity that we could barely contain ourselves.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said George at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said Arthur, smiling slyly.

"Its classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," Percy said stiffly, "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh, come now, Perce," I sighed, egging him on. "You usually have such stunningly superficial knowledge of what's going on that it's almost embarrassing to listen to you. What's got your mouth so constipated?"

"You know, Winifred, I am sick of you contradicting my position at the Ministry," said Percy, narrowing his gaze at me. "You act as if I am some sort of laughingstock of the department. Little do you know, I am a real asset."

"You're only off by two letters," said George under his breath.

Percy huffed loudly and curled his fingers up into tight fists, jerking his head quickly to Arthur.

"Dad, would you please tell them to leave me be?" Percy pleaded earnestly. "They haven't given me a moment's peace in ages."

"Percy, you're just being paranoid," said Arthur, pouring water over the fire.

"I am only paranoid because they're all out to get me!" he said, creating a joke without any intention.

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.

–

_**A/N: **__I know, I know this was embarrassingly dreadful. I had loads of trouble writing this for some reason. It may be because the next chapter is making me very excited. So much happens, and I can't wait to write it._

_**Coming Soon: **__Quidditch World Cup is in full swing, Winnie's vision comes true, two lives are saved, George organizes his priorities, suspicions arise, chaos and hilarity ensue..._

_**PS: **__YOU ARE ALL AMAZING! Seriously, all of you are my heroes. I got 40 reviews on Chapter 1, shattering my record for reviews on one chapter. THANK YOU! Here are my shout-outs of thanks to all of you wonderful readers. I love you all. Help me reach 60 reviews :)_

–

_**SHOUT OUT SATURDAY**_

–

_THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH TO:_

_**Anne-On-A-Moose, Layla, KateandGibbs, BANDN3RD, Perdyflower92, nekuranekomegami, spannieren, FredsLastLaugh, PurpleMonkeyDishwashers, mmmgirl13, booklover555, ValFish, Hufflepuff4ever, sage1993, thenewthingx**_

_**angel2: **__I've got a plan for all that, no worries ;) Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're like it._

_**Kagehana013: **__There wouldn't be any angst or excitement if I didn't leave cliffhangers! I'm glad you think my writing is improving. Thanks so much :)_

_**Jillian Mastrano 101:**__ Thanks and I agree with you :)_

_**Weasleygirl31:**__ Thanks && I had to have her miss the Burros... it's just so her :) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Ellenyarai:**__ Thank you so much! It seems like everyone wants them to end up together! I'm pleased :)_

_**InsignificantBlimp: **__I can barely see it either, but I had to for plot purposes. Thanks so much for commenting :)_

_**u n c a n n y obscurities: **__Never trust a lady in a skirt? Haha! I love that! I hate Alicia too and George is acting like a hussy! Thanks for your review I loved it :)_

_**IluvKellanForever:**__ Thanks so much! George is being a git, and I think Winnie's verbal attacks on Alicia are going to have to do... for now ;)_

_**WhisperInTheRain: **__I'm happy you're on Team Genie :) Thanks for your review!_

_**Star-Crossed Hearts: **__Love your name first off. Second off, I'm bringing them together in a dramatic way, count on that. I'm scared to let Fred get too involved because I don't want him to wildly be on Winnie's side because George is still his twin... you'll see ;) Thanks for reviewing so much :)_

_**fanny-kun: **__Thanks so much && George is being a total git... for now ;)_

_**sort of proud: **__Winnie is being straight up stupid, but things will sort themselves out soon enough :) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Kailie: **__I'm so happy you like both couplings! Thanks for reviewing :)_

_**itsalljustalie:**__ I didn't have Ollie meet Bill and Charlie in this chapter because he already knows Charlie (because they went to school together and they were Quidditch teammates etc) but they'll meet in the future :) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Obsession-iz-a-good-thing:**__ You'll have to wait about her breaking up with Oliver because no matter her goings-on with George, they still have a healthy relationship. Also, she does know it was Igor and Travers who killed her family. Thanks for reviewing :)_

_**tonidepp16:**__ You'll love the next chapter then. I can already tell. Thanks for reviewing!_

_Dahlia: I'm taking forever, and I'm sorry. My Dedushka is in the hospital, so I've just been busy up there and give myself a small amount of time to write each day. He should be out soon, so I'll be beta-ing a.s.a.p. Thanks for reviewing && Winnie in a skirt? I hate it too!_

_**wiatch:**__ I agree with everything you said and she knows that too. Thanks for reviewing :)_

_**Kumori Gem: **__I'm glad you feel like that about Oliver and noticed his M.I.A. I'm trying to subliminally toss some of his selfish actions out there for future incidents. && you're a genius because Alicia was the unpleasant surprise... I mean she is just so gosh darn unpleasant, right? Thanks for commenting!_

_**Shrimp Chip: **__They're all being idiots, I agree, but that's 16 year old teens! Haha. Anyways, I've always loved Oliver too. He's so damn funny. Thanks for your review!_

_**Hadley Conlon:**__ Hey amazing writer, you rock! Thanks for reviewing, I always love yours :)_

_**XxXTwilight-SinXxX: **__He totally did, and thanks so much for commenting!_

_**OurLoveIsForever: **__Thanks for reviewing and as much as it frustrates you, I'm glad Winnie is driving you crazy because I want her to for the moment being. I think you'll enjoy Chapter 2 :)_

_**Misssyl: **__Thanks so much for reviewing and as much as I like Winnie and George together I still love Winnie and Oliver :)_

–

_**Thanks so much to all of you!**_

–

_**Review, please :)**_


	3. Chapter 2: The Dark Mark

_**Chapter Two**_

_The Dark Mark_

–

_Fear makes strangers of people  
who would be friends__._

–

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretense disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

Arthur led the way, hurrying us into the woods, following the lantern-lit trail. I could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around us, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; I couldn't stop grinning. We walked through the woods for nearly twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last we emerged on the other side and found ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though I could only see a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, I could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside.

"Would you lot get a move on?" Ron snapped, yelling back at the rest of us. "You're walking at a snail's pace."

"Simmer down, Ronniekins," said Fred. "We're sorry. We forgot you were anxious to see your boyfriend, Viktor Krum."

"Oh, shut it," said Ron. "Krum is the best seeker in the world! I just appreciate his talents!"

"Among other things," George mumbled, curling one corner of his mouth into a lopsided grin. I stifled a laugh while watching Ron's face redden and his fists clench ferociously.

"Lay off him," I smiled, nudging Fred affectionately. "He's in love."

Harry, Ginny, and the twins erupted in a loud fit of laughter at Ron's expense. Ron didn't see the humor in our teasing. He chose to keep his eyes straight forward, clenching his fists a bit tighter again. He was probably still dreaming of Viktor Krum, the love of his life.

–

"Seats one hundred thousand," said Arthur, handing our tickets to the Ministry witch.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked our tickets. "Top box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. We clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through the doors into the stands to their left and right. We kept climbing, and at last we reached the top of the staircase and found ourselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and I, filing into the front seats with the rest of the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which I could have never imagined.

"Great seats, Arthur," I beamed, receiving a pleasant nod in return.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. The field looked smooth as velvet from our lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite us. I sat between Fred and Ginny, they're childish eyes scanned the scene in front of us with the same wonder and amazement as I was.

The box filled gradually around us over the next hour. Arthur kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as if he were imitating a bloody hedgehog or something. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low his glasses actually fell off and shattered. The twins, Ginny and I burst into a fit of laughter, receiving a quick nasty glance from Percy. However, Harry received a nastier glare from Percy when old Fudge greeted him like he was his best mate or something. It was quite humorous, really. Well, everyone else it was. Fudge started rambling on to the Bulgarian Minister about Harry, ogling his scar like most people tended to do. We stopped trying to eavesdrop on their conversation until an all too familiar name was mentioned.

"…ah, and here's _Lucius_," said Cornelius.

The lot of us turned our heads swiftly. It became obvious that the three seats behind us belonged to the Malfoys. Harry, Me, Hermione, and all the Weasleys have been enemies for as long as I can remember. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his toerag of a father. His awful mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.

Fudge began introducing the lot to each other. The Malfoys to the Minister and then the Malfoys to Arthur. You could cut the tension with a knife. Arthur and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other while I recalled the last time the two grown men had come face-to-face: It had been in Flourish and Blotts' bookshop, and they had had a fight. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Arthur, and then down the row.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous donation to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my special guest."

"How-how nice," said Arthur, with an extremely strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. I knew what made Lucius's lip curl like that. The Malfoy's prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent second-class citizens. Then Lucius's gaze lingered onto me. He gave me a look as if to say, What-are-_you-_doing-with-the-likes-of-_them_?" I rudely stuck my tongue out at him, turning back around. Fred and Ginny looked at me with a noticeable expression of pride because of my childish gesture.

Lucius rolled his eyes in disapproval, then nodded sneeringly to Arthur and continued down to his seats. I felt uncomfortable having to sit anywhere near the Malfoys, and I could tell the others felt the same way.

"Slimy gits," Fred muttered, "the lot of them."

Ginny and I nodded our agreement. Suddenly, I felt a fourth presence in our midst; Draco Malfoy.

"What was that _Weasley_?" said Malfoy, expecting Fred to cover for himself. He was sorely mistaken.

"I said, 'You and your family are a bunch of _S-L-I-M-Y _good-for-nothing _G-I-T-S_,'" Fred repeated coolly, turning to face him.

Malfoy merely chuckled lightly as he leaned even closer towards us on the edge of his seat.

"Something funny, Malfoy?" George seethed.

"Yes, actually," said Draco, ceasing his forced chuckle. "I find it quite humorous that you think you can chastise _my_ family when the only halfway decent witch in _your_ family isn't even your own blood."

Malfoy smiled wickedly at me as if it was my cue to thank him for such a gracious compliment.

"How dare you?" I snapped.

The stadium erupted in wild cheers as the Veela began to flutter around below, but the twins, Ginny and I remained staring straight at Malfoy. Draco smiled victoriously at the three of us. Draco Malfoy had always been quite vocal to reprimand me for being taken in by the Weasleys. Lucius had told him how wealthy my family was and the fact that I was a pureblood which led him to automatically conclude that I should not associate myself with them. I didn't understand the logic in his miniscule level of approval of me. I mean, my Mum and Dad fought his lot during the Wizarding War. It didn't really make sense, but I suppose Malfoy's appreciation of money could overlook that fact.

"You think that because you have money you're better than everyone else?" I seethed. "Well, I have news for you, Draco Malfoy, you're not. You may be better off economically, but you are utterly impoverished in every other aspect of you life; mentally, emotionally, moralistically—"

"Shut your filthy mouth, McKinnon," said Draco. "You're only bitter because you're stuck living in a house of poor, blood traitors, much like yourself."

"Don't you dare speak to her like that," snapped Fred.

Fred motioned as if he was going to jump straight out of his seat and pummel Malfoy's face in. I placed a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him down in his place. His face turned a deep shade of red as his hands gripped his arm rests, staring daggers at Draco.

"What the Weasley's lack in finances they more than make up in benevolence, loyalty, and love," I said. "Yet again, three things you can't possibly purchase with all your father's Galleons. And in regards to your remark of me being "stuck" living with the Weasley's…I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. I love them, and they have been nothing but wonderful to me. I actually feel sorry for _you_ and _your_ living situation, Draco."

"HA!" Draco scoffed. "_You_ feel sorry for _me_?"

"Who wouldn't?" I smirked. "I mean, while I live contently with my best mates, you're _stuck _living in a house with a lot of murderers."

That set him off. For a second I was certain he was about to reach for his wand and hex me. I remained still, narrowing my eyes to burn a hole in his irises.

"The Weasleys are a disgrace to the name of wizardry," Malfoy spat.

"We certainly differ on what we consider disgraces the name of wizardry," George snapped.

I thought back to when we watched Arthur sock Lucius in the face. He had said something almost identical to what George had just said. I nodded my agreement with Fred at George's statement.

"_Obviously_," said Malfoy, venom dripping from every syllable.

He slowly leaned back into his seat. The three of us knew we had won. Fred leaned in close to me ear and sported his usual crooked grin.

"Aw, you _love_ us," Fred whispered melodiously.

"Yeah, don't let it go to your head," I said, rolling my eyes and fighting back a smile.

Fred wrapped one of his long arms around me, pulling me close for a second. I patted his chest affectionately with my open palm. George eyed us a bit suspiciously. Like I said before, I had always had a different relationship with Fred than George. We weren't necessarily closer than George and I were, but we just didn't have any problem showing affection to one another. It wasn't ever awkward for us to hug or say, "I love you."

"I know someone who loves you, though he'd never admit it," Fred teased, winking at me.

Fred pointed his thumb at George in a motion he would use if he was hitchhiking. George was too focused on the goings-on below to realize he was being mentioned. I knew exactly what Fred meant by that, and I wasn't keen on having him elaborate either.

"So...er—" I started, trying to change the subject as fast as possible. "I think Malfoy's hair has officially gone past platinum, he must be plutonium; I honestly think he's started coordinating his hair with his teeth."

Fred released a hardy laugh, elbowing George to pass on what I had just said and he, of course didn't react at all. Good job, Winnie.

–

Hermione made a loud tutting noise. She reached up and pulled Harry back into his seat. "Honestly!" she said.

Apparently, the veela had gotten the best of himself and Ronniekins as well. I was all too glad the bloody things didn't have any effect on me.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it –

"Excellent!" yelled Fred as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, I realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns!" said Arthur over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars.

"Ron, look it's your boyfriend!" George exclaimed.

"Shove off, George!" he shouted back at his older brother.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand – Lynch! And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (I saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as I had never seen it played before. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

Troy made as though to dart upward with the Quaffle, drawing away the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova and dropping the Quaffle to Moran. One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Moran's path; Moran ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, soaring beneath, caught it - "TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

"The Porscoff Ploy!" I yelled, looking wildly around to meet Fred's excited eyes. "Brilliant! GO IRELAND!"

Fred high-fived me as we danced about like fools, cheering wildly. For a quick second the noise dulled enough for me to overhear Alicia's voice. George had been cheering loudly until Alicia (who had remained motionless thus far with an expression on her face that gave the impression she was deep in thought) grabbed onto his arm and pulled him down to her level, whispering loudly in his ear.

"Georgie, do the boys in the green the good guys?" asked Alicia in her insufferable baby voice, earning a quick nod from George.

"Oh then, GO GREEN BOYS!" she cheered, clapping her hands together and jumping up and down like a child who just received their desired Christmas gift. She was the epitome of the 'dumb blonde' stereotype. It was bloody disgusting. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the game.

The Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves. And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the greenclad supporters.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Arthur to the boys as the Veela started to dance in celebration. After a few seconds, the Veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman. One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes.

"They're going to crash!" screamed Alicia next to George. He pulled her against him, rubbing her back affectionately whilst she hid her face in his chest.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Fool!" I moaned. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course…"

When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything I had seen so far. After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Harry didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told him it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing — excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The Veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears, but I, hadn't bothered like the other three girls, started tugging on Fred's arm. He turned to look at me, and I pulled his fingers impatiently out of his ears before pointing down at the field.

"Look at the referee!" I said, laughing.

Fred looked down at the field where I pointed. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing Veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"He looks like Percy," Fred said, roaring with laughter. "You know, whenever he sees Crouch."

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the Veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before… Oh this could turn nasty…"

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms… yes… there they go… and Troy takes the Quaffle." Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. They didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruelbeaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders -

"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

"Oliver apparently didn't go for them at all," Fred teased, pinching my side before I punched his arm in jest.

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov - The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and I could hardly blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled from down the row.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and I was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing…

"He's seen the Snitch!" I shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on… but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, I had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again -

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Alicia again.

"They're not!" roared George, ignoring his girlfriends whine this time.

"Lynch is!" I yelled anxiously.

For the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"No one but you two," I laughed as Fred lifted me into the air.

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good… He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all…"

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said with a strange glint in her eye, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess…"

Leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but I could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. A few of them embraced their wives, who sprinted onto the field with joyful tears in their eyes, and kissed them feverishly. I noticed George was doing the same with Alicia.

"That'll be you someday," Fred teased, looking down at the players' wives.

"What?" I gasped, thinking he was looking at George and Alicia like I had. When I realized who he was really implying I rolled my eyes and went back to cheering.

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind us. We looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

Fred and I burst into laughter, wiping tears from our eyes.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

My eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, I saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; I saw thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. He seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. My hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Confolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that… shame it couldn't have lasted longer… Ah yes… yes, I owe you… how much?"

Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

–

Well, the twins won their silly bet, and Ludo had given them their winnings, granting them free range to rub their success in my face. Fred jingled his bag of gold in front of my face, wearing a matching lopsided grin with George. They linked arms and literally skipped around as I walked behind the others.

"Hey, George, who was it that said we were "bloody idiots" for betting out savings?" Fred sung.

"I don't remember, Fred," George beamed. "Was it Ginny?"

I was surprised George was acknowledging I existed. I think the excitement had gotten the best of him. Alicia realized this at once and tugged his arm, hard, making him walk properly by his side again.

"No, I don't think so," said Fred. "Maybe it was Charlie—"

"I get it. I was wrong, you were right," I said, rolling my eyes.

"What was that, Win?" Fred teased. "I didn't quite catch that last bit."

"You were right," I conceded.

Fred took a deep breath. He smiled, inhaling the air like some wonderful fragrance had just been released into the air. I knew he was just sniffing the sweet smell of victory. Arthur had overheard our conversation and wanted to get a word in.

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," said Arthur.

"Don't worry, Dad," said George gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Alicia's eyes sparkled as if George was going to spend all his money on her. Fat chance, I knew exactly what it was going towards and it in no way involved her. Arthur looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know. I was pleased he didn't ask. I didn't want to hear the row that would inevitably take place once Arthur found out about _Weasley Wizard Wheezes_.

We soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around us, Arthur agreed we could all have one last cup of cocoa before turning in. We were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Arthur got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie that caused the rest of us to carry on our own side conversations while Ginny tried to remain conscious.

"Winnie, your bunk is a bit lopsided," said Alicia snidely, her arms wrapped around George's neck as she sat upon his lap before me. "Loser's weepers, sorry. If you only arrived a bit earlier–"

"I'm staying with Oliver," I interrupted, "His family's tent is rather nice, I'm not concerned with a sore back. Thanks though."

"You don't have to stay with Wood," said Fred, displeased with my sleeping whereabouts. "You can share my bed with me–"

"That would be highly inappropriate, Winifred," said Percy swiftly.

"Sod off," I snapped.

"Really, Perce, it's not like she's some random street walker," said Fred. "It's just Winnie, she's basically a boy."

"Um, yeah," I replied apprehensively. "Thanks, Fred, though I'd still rather stay with the Wood's. I'll have my own bed, and judging from previous bruises you tend to be a sleep-kicker."

"Her own bed?" Alicia scoffed under her breath.

"Yes, my own bed," I snapped. "Did you forget English again, sweetheart?"

"I just didn't know you and Oliver had your own bed already," she replied curtly.

"We don't have the sort of relationship, thank you very much," I spat. "Our relationship is based on similar interests and mutual feelings–"

"Uh-huh, whatever helps you sleep at night, darling," she seethed. "Well, that and a romp in the–"

I'd had it. That was it. She'd gone too far. I could stand her talking behind my back, swapping spit with George, I even enjoyed her moronic comments that gave me an excuse to be crude and witty, but I would not stand for her inferring that I had some nonexistent physically intimate with Oliver. We did not do _that_, and I didn't plan on doing _that_ anytime soon. Oliver knew I was waiting until I was ready, and he agreed to wait for me as long as I needed. I abruptly took to my feet, my face beet red, and I leaned forward so I was only a foot or so from her face. Her expression was unwavering. I gritted my teeth and jerked my head towards George, narrowing my glare. I opened my flattened palm and motioned towards Alicia.

"This? This is who you chose to use as some pawn in your little plan to try to make me jealous?" I whispered viciously, low enough so only the two of them could hear me. "Well, it's not working. I know what you're trying to do, and it's not bloody working. Frankly, all I feel towards you is pity. Pity because you are so bleeding pathetic that you would rather spend your time being miserable with this– this bitch than be single and happy. So you get what I'm saying? I could care less who you want to play tonsil hockey with! You hear me? I-do-not-bloody-care!"

George merely let his mouth hang open, unable to form a complete thought.

"You're so full of yourself!" hissed Alicia. "George really cares for me a–"

"If you really believe that then you're even stupider than I thought," I spat hoarsely. "Piss off, the both of you! I'm leaving. Fred, send for me in the morning. Goodnight."

Just as I turned to grab my bag and leave, Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Arthur called a halt to the verbal replays and (in my case) lashings and insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione, Ginny, and Alicia undoubtedly went into the next tent while everyone else clambered into their bunks. I left the Weasley tent to head for the Woods on the other side of the campsite. My jaw remained rigid even though there was much singing and the echoing bangs all around me. I was furious that I forgot May at the Weasleys' tent.

The Wood's tent was as empty and extravagant as their summer cottage and home. It had three open nooks that contained a King-sized bed in each. A large living room was in the center, connecting to a kitchen, dining room and the bedrooms. No one was home, not surprisingly. I already knew Oliver was at a bonfire with his teammates and I was certain that his parents were out with their Ministry friends or mates from St. Mungos. I took off my cardigan and threw on Fred's old blue striped boxers. I hopped into the extra bed and pulled a pillow over my head to try to drown out the loud noises from outside. I was so angry that I didn't think I would be able to sleep, however after an hour of tossing and turning I drifted into an unnerving sleep.

–

_It was happening again. __The screaming growing louder, causing my ears to nearly bleed from the pain. The smoke was engulfing my throat. Sweat dripped from my forehead, streaming down my cheeks. Desperate footsteps were obvious, frantic calls for help in the background. Loud BOOMS followed the quaking earth. Wait, I don't remember feeling the ground quake..._

I shot up from my slumber, drenched in cold sweat, breathing like I had just ran for miles. The sharp screams still rang in my ears. At first, I thought it was still just part of my nightmare but when the screams become much louder I knew this was no dream. A dim glow encompassed the tent, and I knew it wasn't sunlight. It was from fire. My vision was coming true. The images from outside ran through my head as I covered my ears with my hands and shook my head violently to erase the visions from my mind.

Suddenly, an earsplitting _BOOM_ shook the earth. I shot like a rocket off the mattress, the bed followed after me. The entire bed, frame and all, landed on top of me . I groaned in pain, tried to push myself free but failed. Some sort of bomb of flames had brought the Wood's temporary home to shambled. All the beds had shot from the ground along with all the other furniture whilst all the dishes shattered. I heard the glass shatter from all the cabinets and the glass shower turn to rubble. Fire had begun to encompass the tent, several beams had been lit aflame. One in particular was cracked and hanging directly over my head. I knew it wouldn't be long before the fire caused the wooden beam to weaken and collapse on top of me. I wouldn't survive, I knew that for certain.

"HELP!" I screamed hoarsely, struggling to breathe from a combination of black smoke and the pressure of the heavy bed atop me. "PLEASE, HELP ME!"

I couldn't reach my wand, it was concealed within my left knee-high sock that was far buried under the mattress. I was trapped on my back from the waist down. I tried to claw the earth like a crab to free my legs to no avail. I was going to die. I was going to die alone, but worse than that: I was going to die with my best friend hating me.

They say that when you're about to die that your entire life flashes before your eyes, but I beg to differ, only the things you love do. Memories from my childhood replayed in my mind. I saw my Mom's face smiling over me, I saw Molly and Arthur, I saw Ginny, Ron, Bill, Charlie, and even Percy. Then I saw Oliver, and finally I saw the twins. I saw us as children, racing our brooms and pulling pranks, then our first time leaving for Hogwarts, our jokes and their laughs. I saw us grow and change, the fun we had and then I saw George. I saw us kiss from outside my own body. Finally, I saw his face when we spoke our last words to one another before we stopped talking, so much hurt and hate filled his eyes. I couldn't leave this world with him loathing me.

Then for one crystallizing moment, I looked up at the sight before me. The ceiling was about to crumble, flames engulfed the wooden frames. It was like I was looking into the past, for this exact image was burned into my memory from the last night my Mother was on earth. It was just as though I was a helpless toddler again, fighting for my life, all alone. I started to panic, my scar burning though no flames were near me... yet.

"Winnie?" a sudden distant voice called in between coughs. "Winnie, where are you?"

I knew it had to be Oliver, returning to his tent to make sure I wasn't here, to make sure I was safe.

"I'm over here!" I screamed.

The black smoke made visibility extremely dismal. The only reason I knew the shouts for me were not just a hallucination was when I felt the heavy weight atop my lower half disappear. I pushed myself free and clambered to my knees. Two hands took hold of either of my shoulders before making their way to either side of my face. When my eyes were forced to meet my savior's I knew I was wrong in my guess to his identity. The person who came after me, who saved my life was no other than George.

"George?" I gasped in complete disbelief. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I came to make sure you were safe," he said, unashamed. "I– I don't know what I'd do if something were to happen to y–"

I heard a _CRACK_ come from above and without a second thought I pushed George backwards onto the ground. The same beam from before had snapped and fallen to their very spot we had just been standing in. I landed on top of him, both of us breathing hard with our hearts racing. I'd been hit with the beam, only hard enough to leave a sizable gash in the back of my neck, the very spot where I was injured before– the very spot. My scar had been reopened in more ways than one.

"You alright?" I breathed, climbing off him and helping him to his feet. The blood began to trickle down my neck, staining the back of my camisole. I knew George would notice it soon and freak out, so I needed to get us out of the tent to avoid him having an overprotective fit.

"Yeah, thanks," he replied. "I came here to help you and you end up saving me too."

"Yeah, Lady Irony is a bint," I said hurriedly, taking George's hand in mind and leading him in a run towards the exit. "Now let's get out of here before she kicks us in the bum again."

George gripped my hand tighter as we ran between the indistinguishable faces that darted around us. The large trees drew nearer and nearer, it seemed like we'd been running for an eternity. I looked up at him, out of breath and barefoot besides my socks.

"Where are the others?" I gasped. "Are they alright?"

"Fred has May," George replied, his eyes remaining determinedly on the treeline before us.

"What about everyone else?" I asked anxiously.

"Dad, Bill, Charlie and Percy went after those things, but I tore after you right after Fred told me he'd take May," he replied hastily. "I heard Dad telling everyone to head for the woods just before I ran off."

"What about Alicia?" I inquired. "Did you tell her where you ran off–"

"Shit," he muttered, closing his eyes for a second to curse himself. "I knew I forgot something."

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around us in the cold night air. And even within the mass chaos, I couldn't help but allow a faint smirk to grow across my lips. We reached the treeline and entered to find a path and more importantly find the others. We followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, Ginny, and the others. We passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, and who seemed quite unperturbed by the trouble at the campsite. Farther still along the path, we walked into a patch of silvery light, and when they looked through the trees, they saw three tall and beautiful veela standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly. I rolled my eyes and followed George deeper into the trees for what seemed like an hour before he halted his steps.

"Let's take a minute," he said disdainfully, releasing my hand to run his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I have no idea where we are."

"Okay," I nodded.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked me again, letting his hand drop from his head to his sides.

"I'm fine, really," I replied and after a minute of silence I finished my sentence. "George, I'm sorry."

"'S alright," he shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "Alicia pissed you off, and I deserved–"

"Not just that," I interrupted. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for lying to you all those months, then getting angry at you for not forgiving me, and then for running away from confrontation for the summer. I was just so furious at you when I saw you with Alicia... but I'm sorry, I truly am."

"I'm sorry too," he said, turning towards me again and scratching the back of his neck. "I overreacted, and I regret being so hasty to write you off. In regard to the Alicia bit... I deny dating her to make you jealous–"

"I know," I said, shaking my head. "I was just so mad that I got wrapped up in the moment and said things I didn't mean. I'm sure you really like her. I mean, she surely has some redeeming qualities... that I'm unaware of."

"You didn't let me finish," he insisted. "I'm not dating her to make you jealous. I'm dating her to get over you."

My breath became caught in my throat.

"Beg your pardon?" I replied, my eyes a bit too wide.

"I did have feelings for you, and when I saw you with er– Oliver I was just so overcome with jealousy that the only way I could deal with what I was feeling was to find _something_... or in this case _someone_ to transfer my feelings onto," he explained. "It really wasn't that easy, come to find out, but as unbelievable as it may sound... being with Alicia makes me... makes me feel _good_. Yeah, she can be obnoxious, rude, and downright moronic sometimes, but at least I know someone out there cares about me... you know, like _that_. And yes, you may have deserved a bit of grief for lying, but I took things too far. For that reason, I apologize."

"I had feelings for you too," I admitted. "When I was with Oliver even, I was so confused with what I was feeling that I had no idea what to do with myself. Then we kissed, we kissed and all I wanted was for you to tell me just what you told me. Honestly, if you returned my feelings at that moment I think I may have broken-up with Ollie to be with you, but you didn't and it broke _me_. From that moment on I focused everything on my relationship with him, and I guess I'm lucky in that respect because I'm happy with Oliver and I was then. I know that now. He's good to me, George, and he's good_ for_ me."

"You really do love him then?" he asked genuinely.

"Yes, I _really_ do," I replied, honestly and truthfully.

"Then I'm happy for you," said George, smiling like it pained him to do so. Then he must have seen the steady flow of blood dripping down my collarbone.

He gently, yet forcefully turned me sideways. He placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled back his palm, it was not covered with the thick red liquid. His face was extremely concerned. Without a second thought, he pulled off his long-sleeved white shirt, only leaving a thin t-shirt in its wake, rolled it into a makeshift scarf-thing, wiped away the bloody mess and wrapped his shirt around my neck.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" he asked frantically.

"Because I knew you'd worry, and we needed to stay calm to get away safely," I replied.

"Are you injured anywhere else?"

"No, and my cut doesn't even hurt," I lied, feeling the searing pain twang my neck. "I can barely even feel it."

"Let's just find the others," said George. "You know how Charlie is used to tending to cuts, burns, and scrapes on a daily basis. He'll fix you up in no time."

"OK," I conceded. "I just hope everyone is alright–"

Before I could finish my sentence a blunt force ran flat into me, nearly knocking me on my backside. It was Ginny, engulfing me in a hug. She pulled away and I took her chin in between my thumb and index finger, turning her head from side to side to look for any injuries.

"You alright, Gingersnap?" I asked, concerned.

"I'm fine which is more than I can say for you," she replied, eyeing my injury.

"No worries, it's just a scratch," I smiled reassuringly.

Alicia and Fred followed after her. Fred swooped me up in one of his infamous, bone-crushing hugs, dropping May onto the grass. He started to examine my wound whilst Alicia wrapped her arms around George's waist, eyeing me viciously. I picked up May, hugging her against my chest and shot daggers right back at her.

"Georgie, you disappeared so suddenly," said Alicia in her childish tone. "I was so worried."

I noticed Ginny and Fred both roll their eyes.

"Where did you run off to?" she went on.

"I– I well, you see–" he started.

"He gallantly fled into the crowd to defend all of us, innocent citizens, from the evil Death Eaters wreaking havoc on the campsite," I lied. "I had fallen and hit my head before he found me. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for his incredible bravery."

Alicia dumbly covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. She pulled George down to her and kissed him.

"Oh, George, you're so wonderful," she swooned, causing me to roll my eyes.

"So he found you in Wood's tent and helped you to the forest, right?" asked Fred in my ear.

"You got it, mate," I said, pointing my index finger at him like a gun and winking at him, making a clicking sound against my cheek.

"So you two made up then?" he inquired.

"Looks like it," I smirked.

"Thank Merlin," said Fred, wrapping his arms around my waist. "You have no idea how exhausting it is to be the middleman."

"I'm sorry for that, Fred," I said, snuggling up against him. "You're a great friend."

"I know I am," he said, smiling and placing his hand on his chest theatrically. "Oh bullocks, I almost forgot. We ran into Wood."

"Was he alright?" I asked desperately.

"Yeah, yeah he was fine," said Fred. "He was looking for you like mad, yelling for you and all. I told him where you were, and I think I made him more anxious when I told him who you were with rather than where you were."

"He has no reason to be that way," I replied truthfully.

"Whatever you say," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "Well, I told him I'd find you and to meet you in front of our tent tomorrow if he didn't find you tonight."

"Thanks, Fred," I smiled gratefully.

"Don't mention it, Freddie," he said, squeezing me against him. "It's good to have–"

Suddenly, something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness my eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the -?" gasped Ginny as she stared up at the thing that had appeared.

For a split second, I thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then I quickly realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As we stood together and watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation. The wood, all around us, erupted with abrupt screams. I instantly understand why, I scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but he couldn't see anyone.

"The Dark Mark," I whispered to myself.

My vision was completed now, everything had come true. My knees buckled, causing Fred to hoist me up. I had told him, in letters, about my nightmare and I knew he instantly understood my shock. Not only did my nightmare turn into reality, but it was like I was reliving the night I became an orphan. It was horrifying. I tried to conceal my terror but it was incredibly difficult.

"Come on," said George anxiously, eyeing me with great concern. "Let's get back to the tent and get Winnie tended to. It looks like people are clearing out."

Fred forced me onto his back, handing May in Ginny's possession. He said it was because I was shoeless, but I knew he thought I was going to faint from either blood loss or just from being overwhelmed from the night's events. I wrapped my arms carefully around his neck and laid my cheek against the back of his head. I closed my eyes, unwilling to look up at the Dark Mark again. I just couldn't force myself to do it. It was as if an ice-cold chill shot down my spine whenever my eyes spotted it, freezing my insides.

I felt bad having Fred lug me around like a bloody rag doll, but he refused to set me back down until we reached the tent. Alicia kept her fingers laced with George and glared at him every single time he asked how I was feeling. Ginny kept her hand in Fred's, glaring at Alicia every single time she glared at me. It seemed like it took forever to finally get back to camp, probably because I kept my eyes shut most of the time until I was spoken to. When I heard Bill's voice I knew we'd made it. He was peeking his head outside, looking relieved when he spotted us.

"About time!" he said, exasperated. "We were worried you'd gotten carried off by the Death Eaters. What the– Winnie, what happened?"

"It's not a big deal," I said as Fred set me down on the hardwood floor of the makeshift home away from home. "I just hit my head."

"Oi, Charlie!" called Bill to his younger brother who was sitting at the kitchen table beside Percy. "Winnie's hurt, work your magic."

Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Charlie took to his feet immediately, knocking over his cup of tea. He looked me over and forced me down into the seat beside him. Everyone else found seat, still shaking a bit. Charlie took out his medikit from his duffel bag and began clearing away the blood with some potion that burned my gash to the touch. I cringed, causing Charlie to pull away for a moment.

"You're going to have a scar," said Charlie, delicately stitching up the cut.

"I'm aware," I smirked.

"O– Oh, yeah," he replied sadly, remembering the prior scar.

Arthur and the trio entered the tent not long after Charlie began patching me up. Charlie turned away so quickly to see the others that he forgot he was stitching me and had to apologize profusely for nearly shrinking my neck. I was too consumed with the others' well-being to care.

"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," said Arthur. "We found Barry Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" said Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"Harry's wand?" said Fred, George and I in unison. The three of us nodded approvingly at one another. The trio was back together again alright.

"Mr. Crouch's elf" said Percy, sounding thunderstruck.

With some assistance from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Arthur explained what had happened in the woods. When they had finished their story, Percy swelled indignantly.

"Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to… embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry… how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control."

"She didn't do anything - she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy - better, indeed, than any of us. They were both the most bookish, snobbish, people I knew. However, Hermione still had a likable quality that Percy lacked on most occasions.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" said Percy pompously, recovering himself.

"She didn't run amok!" shouted Hermione. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone… Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Arthur quietly, causing my stomach to turn. "Of course people panicked… it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky…"

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Arthur, wincing and looking at me from the corner of his eye before he eyed Harry. "The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside…"

"Everyone's worst fear… the very worst," I said quietly, yet still earning the attention and (unfortunately) the sympathy of everyone.

There was silence for a moment. Then Charlie, removing the temporary bandage that was soaking up the blood from my neck to check and see if the bleeding had ceased to change the wrapping for the remainder for the night, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said Bill. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight – the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Arthur. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" said Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"But what were Voldemort's supporters –" Harry began. Everybody flinched, including me – like most of the wizarding world, the Weasleys and myself always avoided saying Voldemort's name.

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" said Arthur with a hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" said Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," said Charlie, replacing my old bandage with a clean one. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives… I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

"So… whoever conjured the Dark Mark…" said Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Arthur. "But I'll tell you this… it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now… Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

After Arthur fretted over my injury like I had lost a limb or something for ten bloody minutes, I let the girls disappear into their tent and allowed Bill to make me a bed on the floor in between Fred and George's twin beds. I knew I ought to feel exhausted: It was nearly three in the morning, but he felt wide-awake – wide awake, and worried. I mean, tonight, for the first time in thirteen years, Lord Voldemort's mark had appeared in the sky. What did these things mean? I shook from the cold and from fear as I looked up at the canvas, but no flying fantasies came to ease me to sleep. I felt a hand take hold of mine and lead me upwards. George pulled me into his bed and wrapped his arms around my waist sweetly, causing my trembling to cease. There was nothing romantic in its nature, only genuine concern and friendship was in the air between us.

"It's going to be alright, Freddie," he whispered in my ear, "cross my heart."

I knew he meant it, but no promise in the world could calm my nerves. It was a long time after Charlie's snores filled the tent that I finally dozed off into an even more restless sleep than before, for more than anything, I was scared of what terrors my next nightmare would have in store.

–

_**A/N: **__BOOM. Make-up central. It took 3 or 4 chapters to do it, but they finally put everything out on the table. Yeah, they're not together, but I'm not pushing them into this so quickly. I want them to have a believable relationship, so please don't nag me to force them together. They're in a good place right now, and I'm going to move them together gradually. I'm sorry if you're getting restless with the will they, won't they nonsense but that's the truth of puppy love. Please, stick with me. You won't regret it :)_

_**PS:**__ 12,000 plus words? WHAT? Well, I'm trying desperately to write as much as humanly possible before I move into my new apartment. I had more time to write lately because my grandpa has been in the hospital, because I move in between studying for the LSAT to working on this while he sleeps. I went to the Cubs game the other day and got so drunk and sun sick that I spent all of last night vomiting. How embarrassing, right? Anyways, look for an update by Sunday. I'm working real hard to keep my mind off my dedushka. _

_**PSS: **__Thanks so very much for getting me to 60 reviews so quickly. If I get to 85 reviews as fast as I got to 60 then expect one heck of a fast update. I'm trying to average 25 to 30 reviews a chapter. I know, I know people get annoyed with review requests, but I only like to do that because it gives me an idea of how my writing quality is doing. BTW: As of now I'm a fifth through the book, and I'm shooting for this to be about 15 chapters like "Crossed Hearts." Well, anyway, thanks again, loves :) _

_**Warning:**__ I'm too tired to fix typos now. I'll edit later._

_**Coming Soon:**__ Winnie says 'goodbye' to Oliver for awhile at least, Alicia is forced to face her fears, the trio returns to Hogwarts with a clean slate, Winnie is faced with a situation she never wanted to happen, Winnie's ability goes haywire, relationships are tested, chaos and hilarity ensue..._

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_**THANK YOU TUESDAY**_

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_**LuLu Reader: **__AH! I LOVE NEW READERS! Thanks for only getting 2 hours of sleep to read this fic... not to mention leaving me an amazingly appreciated long review. THANKS SO MUCH! Get some sleep, and I hope you enjoyed this last chapter. _

_**MiaHammBailey:**_ _Thank you so very much! I'm glad you're getting a kick out of it :)_

_**nekuranekomegami: **__Thanks for reviewing, honey!_

_**RatedRCouture: **__Yay! They made up! Thanks so much for commenting :) Why the Oliver hate? lol._

_**PurpleMonkeyDishwashers: **__Alicia... sucks. I have no basis or reason, but I've always disliked her. Ugh. Thanks for reviewing!_

_**angel2:**__I hope you enjoyed how things turned out. Thanks so much!_

_**weasleygirl31:**__Thanks, sweetie, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I like your avatar by the way ;) Thanks again!_

_**HadleyConlon: **__I'm jonesing for some George/Maddy action. Have fun away, but update soon ;) I haven't decided if I'll have a physical confrontation between the two girls yet.. we shall see, and thanks for liking Team Wollie (some reader deemed it that, and I love it) I love them too! Thanks for reviewing, honey!_

_**InsignificantBlimp: **__I'm sorry you didn't get a fist fight! I'm not completely kicking it out of the picture, but they won't be physically fighting anytime soon. Thanks so much for commenting!_

_**wiatch:**__Alicia may get a punch in her pretty little face in the future, but only time will tell ;) I'm glad you're enjoying the read. Thanks for the feedback, sweetheart!_

_**PerdyFlower92: **__Thanks so much... yes, Alicia is bloody stupid!_

_**Daliha: **__Thank you so much, sweetie. Talk soon :)_

_**Jillian Mastrano 101: **__Thanks for commenting, honey! I figured Winnie needed someone in her corner, and I love Fred too much to make him mad at her too. YES! You caught the half-smile. I'm so glad!_

_**IluvKellanForever: **__Yay for Percy bashing! Thanks for commenting, sweetie!_

_**Booklover555: **__Yes! You sound like me. I have no reason for hating Alicia in general, but I so do! Thanks for reviewing!_

_**tonidepp16:**__I hoped you liked this chapter! Thanks so much, and I agree with everything you said! Ha!_

_**The last of the Timeladies:**__I'm glad you like my long chapters! I hate chapters under like 3 thousand words unless they're awesome, ha! Thanks so much for reviewing :)_

_**Kumori Gem: **__You are a genius, girl! I'm so glad your sister likes my story! Tell her THANKS! Alicia is an idiot, and I love bashing her! I think Winnie may deck you for George, but you may just win that fight! Thanks for the feedback, lovie!_

_**sort of proud: **__I so agree with you on every single word you wrote, from George and Winnie's relationship to Fred being awesome... you know, because he totally is. I appreciate you feedback a ton! I'm glad you're not urging me to get them together a.s.a.p. It's not time in my opinion. Thanks again :)_

_**taterbug0491:**__Thanks for reviewing! I hope she doesn't meet her dad soon, haha. He's been dead for 17 years. Her dad is Benjy Fenwick. He was killed before she was born. I think in Chapter One of "Crossed Hearts" they talk about it at the Burrow. Thanks again, honey!_

_**WhisperInTheRain: **__Alicia is here to stay... for now, more bashing of her will be on the way. Thanks for reviewing, sweetie! I appreciate it :)_

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_**Review.**_


	4. Chapter 3: The Triwizard Tournament

_**Chapter Three**_

_The Triwizard Tournament_

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_Respect has to be earned,  
not expected._

–

I woke before everyone else, a rarity to say the least. The sun had not yet risen, and I wager I'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep throughout the entire night. I pulled George's arm off me with great difficulty and went to find my bag full of clothes and change before any of the boys woke up and saw me naked. I threw on an ancient pair of gray sweatpants and my favored Chudley Canons t-shirt. I sort of looked like I changed into another pair of pajamas, but I could have really cared less.

I slid on my faded white Chucks and pulled on a matching maroon sweater over my shirt, throwing my hair up into a loose bun to make sure my cut was clear of anything that could touch it. It still stung, inside and out. Suddenly, the damaged beams and swarming flames flashed before my eyes again without any warning. I stumbled backwards and into the living room sofa chair. I slammed a palm on either side of my head, closing my eyes hard and shaking the memories away. Was this a new symptom of my ability, seeing the past like it's the present? Merlin, I hoped not.

"Winnie?" a shallow voice called from the tent flap, thankfully breaking my trance. "Winnie, you in there?"

"Oliver?" I whispered back, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one had awoke from my voice. I tiptoed towards the exit, trying to make the least amount of noise as humanly possible.

I clutched my maroon sweater closed around me, my breath visible even through the morning fog. The sun had just began to think about rising, everyone would be getting up soon. Oliver engulfed me in a hug before I could prepare for it.

"What was that for?" I smirked.

"Your safety," said Oliver, cupping my face in his hands. "When my parents and I came back to see the damage to our campsite... I'm just so glad you're alright."

"It was all thanks to George," I explained. "When the explosions started I ended up getting trapped under the rubble and George came after me. I wouldn't e here if it wasn't for him."

"I guess we should all be thankful George was there," said Oliver in an unfamiliar voice. "I wager you two made amends then?"

"Yeah," I nodded, smiling at the thought. "We talked things out and things are back to normal."

"That– That's just great," he said, plastering the fakest smile I'd ever seen across his face.

"For some reason I don't find your sentiment to be genuine," I smirked, tightening my arms across my chest.

"I– I just don't trust him around you is all," he admitted.

"What?" I inquired.

"It's just that I know he still has feelings for you, and I mean–"

"You mean you don't trust me around him," I corrected him. "You think that since we won't see each other as often that he's going to prey on me or something–"

"Christ, Win," he interrupted. "You always make me into the bad guy when all I'm trying to do is look out for you."

"News Flash, Oliver," I said firmly. "I've been best friends with George, and Fred for that matter, far longer than I've even known you existed, so if you're asking me to alter my friendship with them for even a second you have another thing coming."

"I would never ask that," he retorted. "I know how close the three of you are–"

"Then have a little faith in me," I replied, playfully tugging on his gray sweatshirt strings towards me. "We'll see each other on most Hogsmeade weekends, and I promised you I'd try to sneak off and see a Puddlemere match or two and I meant it. You'll come see my Quidditch matches, and we're going to write each other all the time as well. So quit acting so pathetic, it's not flattering on you."

"You can be too sensible sometimes," he smirked, his expression relaxing significantly.

"Well, someone in this relationship has to be," I teased, poking his nose and kissing him quickly. "I love you, Oliver Wood, and I don't plan on not loving you anytime soon... unless you go and fool around with one of those Puddlemere groupie trollops. Then I'll hate you and cut off your–"

"Win–" interrupted Arthur, popping his head out the flap. "Oh, there you are, dear. 'Morning, Oliver."

"Hello, sir, sorry I stole Winnie away for a moment," he smirked at me. "She was just telling me what she would cut off of–"

"Shut up, honey," I said in a fake sugary voice, covering his mouth and sending Arthur an innocent smile whilst batting my eyelashes. "I was just saying my last good-bye to Ollie, Arthur, I'll be inside in a minute."

"Take your time," said Arthur. "We're just packing up to go."

Oliver and I nodded, watching him disappear back inside the tent.

"I should probably go," I said reluctantly, looking over my shoulder. "I wager everyone is going to be quick considering we're trying to catch an early Portkey... and considering Alicia is getting shipped home today. I'm also anxious to see Molly... partly because Fred told me he and George left on sore terms with her. I can't wait for this reunion."

"Yeah, alright then," Oliver agreed despondently, "I'll see you, first weekend to Hogsmeade."

"I'll try not to forget," I teased, pleased he hadn't noticed the thin bandage on the back of my neck. "Bye, Ollie."

"Good-bye, Winnie," he said, kissing me. "I love you."

I was going to miss that Quidditch-obsessed git. I really, really was.

–

Arthur used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible. Alicia departed to meet her parents to take her home just before we left, delivering a 'good-bye' to George so dramatic and lengthy that you would have thought they were never going to see each other again. Needless to say, I was rather pleased to see her go.

We heard urgent voices as we approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Arthur had a hurried discussion with Basil; we joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen to its height. We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we were so exhausted, and thinking longingly of our breakfast. As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Molly, who had evidently been waiting for us in the front yard, came running toward us, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.

"Arthur – I've been so worried – so worried–"

She flung her arms around Arthur's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, I read the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops. My gash began aching again.

"You're all right," Molly muttered distractedly, releasing Arthur and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're alive… Oh boys…" And to everybody's surprise, especially the twins', she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

"Ouch! Mum – you're strangling us –"

"I shouted at you before you left!" said Molly, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough OW.L.s? Oh Fred… George… oh, and Winnie dear!"

She released the twins momentarily and forced me into a bone-crushing hug, allowing Fred and George to wallow in my discomfort as I had in theirs.

"I was so scared that the last time I would have seen you was Christmas and–" said Molly, stopping for a second to turn me to look at my injury. "Oh, Winifred! What's happened to your n–"

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay. Winnie just has a scratch is all," said Arthur soothingly, prising her off me and the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says…"

When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and after I had made Molly a cup of very strong tea, into which Arthur insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey (the very whiskey I had vomited on Molly's house slippers not long ago), Bill handed his father the newspaper. Arthur scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," said Arthur heavily. "Ministry blunders… culprits not apprehended… lax security… Dark wizards running unchecked… national disgrace… Who wrote this? Ah… of course… Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans—"

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Charlie, yawning and hanging his arm over my shoulders, "and shut up."

I looked up and laughed when he winked at me.

"I'm mentioned," said Arthur, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.

"Where?" spluttered Molly, choking on her tea and whiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," said Arthur. "Listen to this: 'If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.' Oh really," said Arthur in

exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods… well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."

He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

He bustled out of the kitchen. Molly looked most upset. "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," said Arthur. "I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off…"

–

Neither Arthur nor Percy was at home much over the following week. Both left the house each morning before the rest of the family got up, and returned well after dinner every night. This gave Molly something to fret about rather than stick her nose in our business which was good for the time being considering the twins, to my dismay and somewhat pleasure, had been bamboozled by ole Ludo Bagman after all: Leprechaun Gold, the oldest trick in the book. When they told me what happened I almost collapsed onto the floor in a fit of giggles, but I restrained myself once I saw how furious they really were.

"It's been an absolute uproar," Percy told us all importantly the Sunday evening before we were due to return to Hogwarts. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders."

"Why are they all sending Howlers?" asked Ginny, who was mending her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire.

"Complaining about security at the World Cup," said Percy. "They want compensation for their ruined property. Mundungus Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite Jacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks."

Molly glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. I always loved that clock. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise very informative. It had ten golden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family's names along with mine. There were no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. "Home," "school," and "work" were there, but there was also "traveling," "lost," "hospital," "prison," and, in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, "mortal peril."

Nine of the hands were currently pointing to the "home" position, but Arthur's, which was the longest, was still pointing to "work." Molly sighed.

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You- Know-Who," she said. "They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?" said Percy. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first–"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!" said Molly, flaring up at once.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron. "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

"Well, it is a bit long, dear," said Molly gently. "If you'd just let me–"

"_No, Mum_."

Rain lashed against the living room window. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Molly had bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava while Harry polished his Firebolt. Me, Fred and George had been sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a piece of parchment. I'd grown annoyed with their attempt to write Bagman a silly blackmail letter, so I'd risen to a more comfortable position and resorted to looking down at their nonsense instead.

"Molls is really worked up," I said, moving from my position on my knees to the edge of the couch. "Can't you just call it a day and enjoy a good Percy lashing? They're so rare now-a-days... such a shame."

"We'd be done with our evil bidding by now if you would just shut your gob and quit being such a wet blanket," said Fred, still fidgeting with the slips of paper he and George were scribbling on.

"Seriously, Freddie, if we hang up on the clothesline for a couple hours will you come back in a more agreeable mood?" asked George, smirking to himself at his dumb joke for just a second before returning to the parchment before him.

"I'm just saying that if you think you're going to pull a fast one on Ludo Bagman so easily then you've got another thing coming," I replied quietly. "I mean, he was smart enough to pull one over on the likes of you two, and as much as I hate to admit it... you two are pretty witty and on the ball when it comes to these kind of shenanigans. Therefore, he obviously can put on a good show to come off ignorant to take advantage of people. Oh, and George, it's raining outside so I'd come back even soggier than before, so sod off."

"Well, what do you suggest if you're so smart?" asked Fred.

"I'd start off sending him a letter just telling him what happened and acting like you think it was a mistake," I replied. "As unlikely as it may be, you can't be sure that he gave you Leprechaun Gold on purpose. Then, if and only if, he chooses not to act on his mistake should you threaten him. But I still don't understand why you lot are so concerned–"

"It was all we have!" they said in unison, a bit too loud. "We were going to start our business with that–"

"I've told you a dozen times that I have more than enough to get us everything we need and–" I objected.

"No way, Freddie," said George. "We're in this as equal partners, and the second one of us is putting more into this than the other we'll start feeling like we're indebted to the other."

"I wouldn't even make you pay me back–"

"We know, Win, but we'd still feel like it wasn't _ours_," Fred explained. "It would be _yours_ and we'd just be working for you."

I sighed and rolled my eyes but decided to leave it at that. I understood how touchy the twins were when it came to money especially when it involved the store. I would never want to make them feel inadequate.

"Fine," I conceded. "You two are so bloody stubborn–"

"What are you two up to?" said Molly sharply, her eyes on the twins.

"Homework," said Fred vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Molly.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.

"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Molly shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, even Molls.

–

Molly heaved a pile of parcels onto my bed, dropped my money bag and a load of socks next to it. I immediately started unwrapping the shopping. Apart from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6, by Miranda Goshawk, I had a handful of new quills, a dozen rolls of parchment, and refills for my potion-making kit – I had been running low on spine of lionfish and essence of belladonna. I was just piling polka dot underwear into my cauldron when I pulled out some frilly mess out of a primly wrapped package.

"What is that supposed to be?" I asked, peeking over at Molly who was helping Ginny and Hermione pack their things.

"It's a dress, Winifred," said Molly in an exasperated voice. "Take a look at it."

I had to admit, it was rather pretty, too pretty for someone like me to wear. It was a sparkly navy blue with thin, frilly sleeves and above knee length with a sheer fabric covering most of the lower half as it filled out only slightly. There was no way I could wear this in public. I'd be ridiculed mercilessly. I delicately set the dress down, crossed my arms and turned back to Molly.

"I'll go starkers before I put that on, Molls," I said stubbornly.

"Don't be so silly," she replied. "You've got to have a proper dress, it's on your list! It is a perfectly lovely dress, Hermione picked it out for you... because we all know you'd refuse to pick out your own... it's the exact same as hers, only the color and length are different."

In some trepidation, Hermione opened the last parcel on her camp bed. It was just as mine looked like Molly said, however; her dress was pale pink and fell to the floor.

"We thought they'd bring out the color of your eyes, dear," said Molly fondly. "They match perfectly with them as you can see."

"I'm never wearing that," I continued. "Never. I appreciate your efforts, Hermione, but I just refuse to be seen in public like that."

"Fine," snapped Molly. "Go naked. And, Ginny, Hermione, make sure you get a picture of her. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. I neatly folded up my dress and reluctantly put it in my trunk.

"That was a bit melodramatic, don't you think?" I said, closing my trunk.

"You know how she is," said Ginny. "She always gets all up in a tizzy just before we head back to school."

"Still, the woman acts like I should be happy to be forced into a dress," I said, plopping down beside May on my bed.

"It really is a lovely dress, Winnie," said Hermione apprehensively. "I tried it on and it's comfortable too."

"Well, what's the ruddy thing for anyway?" I inquired.

"Mrs. Weasley wouldn't say," she replied.

"We asked her a dozen times, but Mum refused to budge," said Ginny. "I guess we'll just have to wait until we get back to Hogwarts to find out."

"I suppose," I shrugged, "and until then... don't tell the twins. I don't want to have to deal with anymore ridicule than usual."

"Hey, it could be much worse," Ginny giggled to herself. "You haven't seen Ron's dress robes yet..."

–

There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when we awoke next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as I got dressed in my usual jeans and George's old sweatshirt; we'd change into our school robes on the Hogwarts Express.

Me, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George had just reached the first-floor landing on our way down to breakfast, when Molls appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed.

"Arthur!" she called up the staircase. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"

We all had to flatten ourselves against the wall as Arthur came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When we all entered the kitchen, we saw Molly rummaging anxiously in the drawers–

"I've got a quill here somewhere!" – and Arthur bending over the fire, talking to Amos Diggory's head that was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. He was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears.

"… Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men. Arthur, you've got to get over there—"

"Here!" said Molly breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Arthur's hands.

"– it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," said Mr. Diggory. "I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off — if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur—"

"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Arthur, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes.

Mr. Diggory rolled his eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."

"What did the dustbins do?" asked Arthur, scribbling frantically.

"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr. Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the pleasemen turned up–"

Arthur groaned.

"And what about the intruder?"

"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr. Diggory, rolling his eyes again. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it — think of his record — we've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department — what are exploding dustbins worth?"

"Might be a caution," said Arthur, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"

"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr. Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties."

"All right, I'm off," Arthur said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again.

Mr. Diggory's head looked around at Arthur.

"Sorry about this, Molly," it said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything… but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night…"

"Never mind, Amos," said Molly. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"

"Oh go on, then," said Mr. Diggory.

Molly took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth.

"Fanks," he said in a muffled voice, and then, with a small pop, vanished.

I could hear Arthur calling hurried good-byes to Bill, Charlie, Percy, and the other two girls. Within five minutes, he was back in the kitchen, his robes on the right way now, dragging a comb through his hair.

"I'd better hurry – you have a good term, boys... oh, er– and Winnie, " said Arthur to Me, Harry, Ron, and the twins, fastening a cloak over his shoulders and preparing to Disapparate.

"Unnecessary correction," Fred teased me, poking my side.

"Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?" asked Arthur.

"Of course I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye, we'll be fine."

As Arthur vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.

"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now?"

"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Molly.

"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter–"

"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Molly sternly.

"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Molly left the room. "Birds of a feather…"

"...flock together," I smirked. "However, Arthur doesn't have some crazy nickname like Wacky Weasley or something."

"Yet," said George, pointing his index finger in the air as he gnawed on his piece of toast.

"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" asked Charlie, snatching a piece of bacon off my plate and sending me a playfully victorious grin after he took a hardy bite of it.

"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said George. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything…"

"Being normal is overrated anyhow," I said, sipping my orange juice before continuing on another tangent. "He's senile as sin as well as a tosser though, right? I heard Arthur and Molls talking about it once. But I'm certainly not going to judge him, I'm sure as soon as I retire I'm going to end up wearing a mu mu all day long and shout at squirrels in my front yard."

"Well, I certainly hope you inform Oliver of your vision of your happy future," said Fred.

"Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry.

"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror – one of the best… a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Harry's blank look "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though… the families of people he caught, mainly… and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore, sees Dark wizards everywhere."

–

Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.

"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told us. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me."

"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I wager he'll know your name soon."

Molly had braved the telephone in the village post office to order three ordinary Muggle taxis to take us into London. It became blatantly obvious that Muggle taxi drivers rarely transported overexcited owls, and Pigwidgeon was making an earsplitting racket. Nor did it help that a number of Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks went off unexpectedly when Fred's trunk sprang open, causing the driver carrying it to yell with fright and pain as Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg. May sat perfectly content on my lap. She was more than used to sudden explosions by now.

The journey was uncomfortable, owing to the fact that we were jammed in the back of the taxis with our trunks. Crookshanks took quite a while to recover from the fireworks, and by the time we entered London, we were all severely scratched. We were very relieved to get out at King's Cross, even though the rain was coming down harder than ever, and we got soaked carrying their trunks across the busy road and into the station.

We were all used to getting onto platform nine and three-quarters by now. It was a simple matter of walking straight through the apparently solid barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. The only tricky part was doing this in an unobtrusive way, so as to avoid attracting Muggle attention. We did it in groups today; Harry, Ron, and Hermione (the most conspicuous, since they were accompanied by Pigwidgeon and Crookshanks) went first; they leaned casually against the barrier, chatting unconcernedly, and slid sideways through it.

The twins and I went next, doing the same although we opted to performing an attention attracting display by pretending I was pregnant with Fred's baby and George was my husband and understandably upset with the news using Bulgarian accents for a cultured touch. The row was loud and hilarious... er– well, to everyone but Molly it was. We concluded that we'd just pretend it was George's because it would look the same anyhow. We bowed dramatically to Ginny, Bill, Charlie and Molly before falling backwards through the brick wall and as we did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialized in front of us.

The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Pigwidgeon became noisier than ever in response to the hooting of many owls through the mist. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and the three of us set off to find seats, and were soon stowing our luggage in a compartment halfway along the train. We then hopped back down onto the platform to say 'good-bye' to Molly, Bill, and Charlie.

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged me good-bye.

"Why?" asked Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it… it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?" said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling, hugging me good-bye now. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" I asked.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Molly chivvied us toward the train doors.

"Bye, Molls, love you," I said, kissing her cheek farewell.

"I love you too, dear," said Molly. "I'd say I'll see you at Christmas, but… well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with… one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Fred irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Molly, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting – mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules –"

"What rules?" asked all of us at once.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you… Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred, George? And you, Winnie?"

The pistons hissed loudly, the train would be leaving any minute now. Charlie looked around anxiously all of the sudden, gripped my arm gently and pulled me several feet away from the others. He placed his hands in his pockets and looked about as if to make sure no one could overhear us.

"What's wrong?" I inquired.

"I just wanted to have a word in private before you head off," he replied uneasily. "I volunteered to do it. Mum and Dad wanted to be the ones, but then she thought you'd be more inclined to listen to be or Bill and not to mention Dad's been busy lately, so I figured we're closer and–"

"Charlie," I interrupted. "Cut to the chase, before I graduate preferably."

"I just need you to mind yourself this year," he replied.

"You're confusing the bleeding hell out of me," I said, furrowing my brows.

"I can't tell you what's going on at Hogwarts this year," said Charlie gently, leaning down to my eye-level and tenderly placing a hand on either of my shoulders. "All I can tell you is that you're going to be faced with a situation this year that no one should rightfully be forced to endure."

"You're scaring me, Charlie," I said, smirking at his nonsense. "Are you feeling alright?"

I placed my palm on his forehead but he jerked his head away, and I knew then this was no joke.

"Are you taking about my sessions with Cassandra?" I asked curiously. "We've talked about this before. I'm actually ready to get this under control–"

"It has nothing to do with Cassandra Vablatsky," he said sincerely, "but has everything to do with your past."

"Either tell me what's going on or stop this," I insisted. "You're just confusing me–"

"You're going to see me much sooner than you think," he replied. "When you do, you'll know understand what I mean by then."

"But–"

"Freddie, for Merlin's sake, the train is leaving," called George suddenly. "Get a move on!"

Charlie pulled me into a quick hug before shoving me off towards the Express with more questions than anything. I climbed on the train after the twins just before it began to shove off. George eyed me suspiciously once he saw the odd expression across my face. I shook it off and focused my concentration on Fred, who was shouting like mad.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Molly, Bill, and Charlie, who was looking at the ground with a blank expression, sped away from us.

But Molly only smiled and waved at Fred. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated. Fred, George, and I went back to our compartment. The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them. I knew it wouldn't be long before Alicia came barreling in to greet George like the tosspot she was. Therefore, I intended on excusing myself to find another compartment to converse in the moment she infiltrated our lair.

"This whole secret thing going on at Hogwarts is really starting to irk me," said Fred. "I can't imagine why we'd all need dress robes–"

"Well, I wasn't going to tell you two, for fear of being made fun of, but they're making girls bring dresses," I replied, erasing Charlie's words from my mind. "I wager there must be some fancy affair or something. Mine is in my trunk as we speak."

"_You_ in a frilly dress?" George scoffed, earning a laugh from Fred across from the two of us. "I changed my mind, I hope we do have to dress up. I'd pay money to see you forced in to some sparkly concoction."

"Shut it," I snapped lightheartedly. "I'm going to look like a right Queen and you know it."

We all laughed at that comment, knowing I'd look a mess in a dress.

"Maybe there is some sort of award ceremony," I suggested.

"Or a funeral," said Fred.

"Who celebrates at a funeral?" I asked, a small smile across my lips.

"Well, it depends who died, now doesn't it?" he replied wisely.

"I've read many an obituary with great pleasure myself," said George, nudging me playfully.

"Or maybe it's for–" I began.

"I wager it's for a dance," said Katie Bell, slipping into our compartment after Alicia and before Angelina and Lee.

Alicia knocked me a few feet to the side, so she could squeeze in between George and I. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and started placing kisses all over his face and neck. I rolled my eyes along with the others and scooted over for Angelina to sit beside me, across from Fred who sent her the 'goo-goo eye look.' We all exchanged friendly salutations before quickly returning to our conversation.

"A dance?" I replied. "What sort of a dance?"

"No idea, but it's obviously formal," said Katie, shrugging.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts to begin with," said Fred grumpily, already annoyed with Alicia's public displays of affection. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what—"

"Shh!" Angelina whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to ours. We all listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door. I wagered we weren't the only ones who were listening in either, judging by how loud Malfoy was talking.

"… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover – and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do…"

Angelina got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, slimy rat."

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" asked Katie, a muggle-born.

"Yes," said Fred, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to Dad, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

"I think I've heard of it," said Lee vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"

"Well, nobody knows, do they?" I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Er - why not?" said Katie.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said George simply. "You know, because it's bewitched. If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE. I remember reading about it first year."

"Since when do you read?" I teased.

"I dabble," he smirked.

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Angelina thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

"Yeah," I replied. "I think I remember seeing some Durmstrang students at the Cup dressed like that. I want to say they had Bulgarian accents...?"

"Speaking of the Cup," said Lee as if he'd just had a revelation. "Tell us all about it! I read the paper, and I nearly flipped my lid! You lot come out unscathed?"

We filled everyone in on the events of the World Cup as the rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and I bought a large stack of Chocolate Frogs for the lot of us to share, though Alicia refused to take a single bite.

"I'm watching my girlish figure," she said, sticking her nose in the air.

"Apparently George is too," said Angelina under her breath as we both gagged.

–

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. We walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

The seven of us sat down in our usual spot: Me in between the twins, Alicia on George's other side, Angelina directly across from Fred while Kates sat across from Alicia and Lee in between. It felt good to sit in between the twins again and though I knew Alicia still disliked the fact that I was back in George's good graces I think she sought solace in the fact that I did, in fact, have a boyfriend.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" asked Kates, who was also looking up at the teachers.

We had never yet to have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Everyone's favorite by far had been Professor Lupin, who had resigned last year. I looked up and down the staff table. There was definitely no new face there.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone," I said, shrugging.

I scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape - everyone's least favorite person at Hogwarts (except the Slytherins' of course). On Snape's other side was an empty seat, was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. I glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and I had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"You don't think Snape is teaching Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, do you?" asked Alicia nervously.

"It would just be called 'Dark Arts' instead of defense against if Snape was teaching it," I said.

"That's for sure," George agreed. "Maybe Dumbledore is covering the class."

"That would be one hell of a class," said Fred in agreement with the others.

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall walked in, leading the mousy-looking third years, and placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, an the infamous old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song. The first years gaped at it, and like we had years before, probably had their minds swimming in what would happen once the Hat was placed on their heads. The lot of them were squished together beside the twins and I. Fred took this opportunity to turn to George and I (in a purposely loud whisper, mind you) ask:

"Does it still hurt from when you were sorted?" he said.

"Not too much really," said George, catching on immediately, "and my memory has almost completely returned, only took 6 years."

"My scar is almost healed too," I said dramatically as several first years gasped in horror at the sight of the bandage on my neck. "Only bleeds profusely every once in awhile now. That bloody hat really does have one sharp set of teeth on it, though."

"Wait, what does?" asked George as he looked around frantically, playing up his so-called memory loss. "Merlin, where am I?"

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished just as George finished his sentence. I leaned down towards a pale-looking little boy and smiled wickedly.

"Good luck," I teased, causing a sea of nervous whispers to spread all the way to the back of the line.

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; I could see Montague clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. I wondered whether Baddock knew that Slytherin House had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Finally, after what felt like a thousand names were called, the list ended on "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"). Then Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Ron from a few people down, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate. I rolled my eyes at his relentless appetite.

"Shut up, Ron," I hissed.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Fred and George loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before our eyes.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at us all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

"Or anyone could just ask us," said George.

"We've had the list memorized since first year," I replied.

"Well, where else would we find such a perfect shopping list?" said Fred, shrugging.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" six of us Gryffindor players gasped. I looked around at Fred and George, Harry, Kates, and Angelina. They were all mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore like me, apparently too appalled to speak as well. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts–"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Alicia gasped and clutched onto George's arm. The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any I had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye – and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words no one couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Winnie!" Fred and George said in unison.

"What?" I replied, worried that something was wrong.

"You never told us you had a twin," said George with one side of his mouth curling up into a smile.

"Remind me to punch you later," I smirked.

"Honestly, Freddie," said Fred, tilting my chin from side to side to survey me, "the resemblance is uncanny."

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and I saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot. Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred loudly. I would have elbowed him in the side, but he'd taken the words clean out of my mouth.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a pub..."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er – but maybe this is not the time… no…" said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely: The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, you could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors.

I had no interest in even attempting to put myself into the running for Hogwarts' champion. I had enough on my mind already, and I had no intention of putting more stress on my shoulders. I feared I'd collapse from the weight. I knew why Fred and George were desiring a chance to represent the school, and that was the thousand Galleons. Since ole Ludo screwed them over they were more obsessed with saving money for the store than ever.

Dumbledore began to speak again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

"Fat chance," they both muttered.

"Am I going to be dragged into this in any way?" I inquired, knowing they were already up to something.

They merely smirked deviously and winked at me.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They just can't do that!" said George, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"Because you're seventeen in April," I said, answering his question with his own question. "Unless you can figure out a way to grow at least a year older in a month the you're out of luck."

Fred and George looked at each other with matching wicked grins again as I rolled my eyes at them, smirking.

"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Me, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall. Alicia surprisingly departed with Angelina and Katie whilst Lee headed off with Seamus. Fred and George were debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.

"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George, Winnie…"

"Leave me out of it," I replied. "I'm fine with being sixteen."

"And Dumbledore knows you're not of age, anyway though," said Ron.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as we walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Hermione, since when has the fear death ever scared Fred or George?" I replied swiftly.

"Well, where's the fun without a bit of risk?" replied Fred, slinging his arm over my shoulders. "Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older… Dunno if we've learned enough…"

"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice from behind Fred, George and I. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to — oops…"

Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. Neville's memory was notoriously poor. Harry and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily.

"Shut it, you," said Ron, banging down its visor as we passed. We made our way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as they approached.

"Balderdash," said George, "a prefect downstairs told me."

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which we all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. We bid the boys good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitory.

Hermione and I climbed up the last, spiral staircase until we reached our own dormitories, which were situated at the top of the tower. I told her 'good-night' and slipped into my room where my things and May awaited me, beside Angelina's bed against the wall. Three four-poster beds with deep crimson hangings stood against the walls, each with its owner's trunk at the foot. Angelina was getting into bed; Alicia was already asleep and had pinned a photograph of she and George in each others' arms upon her headboard, and Angelina had tacked up a poster of her family over her bedside table.

"Were the twins trying to figure a way to get themselves into the running for the Hogwarts' Champion?" asked Angelina, yawning.

"How'd you guess?" I asked sarcastically. "I do wonder how the competitors are chosen, though."

"No idea," said Angelina quietly, sitting up against her headboard and crossing her legs under her covers. "Maybe the three Headmasters have a say in it. You know, Dumbledore and the other two put their heads together and vote or something."

"Could be," I replied sleepily, pulling on my mismatched pajama ensemble and crawling into bed. Angelina and I sunk completely under our blankets and turned on our sides to face one another. "I wonder what the other headmasters are like."

"Um, I know the one from Beauxbatons is a Headmistress... according to Hermione," she replied. "And the other one has some Bulgarian name... er– Igor something... Igor Karkaroff. Yeah, I think that's right. Well, I'm exhausted, Freddie. See you in the morning."

Angelina rolled over onto her other side as I remained so eerily still that I must have appeared like a corpse. The man who assisted in the murders of my entire family was coming to Hogwarts. He was coming to Hogwarts and was going to stay for most of the year. I instantly knew what Charlie was trying to tell me and now, no matter how incredibly tired I was, I didn't sleep a single wink the entire night.

–

_**MY SHOUT OUTS WILL RETURN NEXT CHAPTER!**_

_**A/N: **__You lot are legit amazing, no lie. I received more reviews than expected, and you make feel so good! I love you all :) I'm sorry there was a lot from the book in this, I thought it was necessary, so PLEASE don't complain. It won't be so bookish from now on, I think not at least._

_**PS:**__ Help me reach 120 plus reviews, and I'll keep updating quickly :)_

_**Coming Soon: **__Winnie's tutoring with Cassandra begin, Oliver's letters bring solace, the twins get into their usual shenanigans, Moody brings back unpleasant memories with Unforgivable Curses, Winnie has an episode unlike any other, Fred and George worry, Montague returns to the picture, Alicia takes a backseat, blackmailing, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Review.**_


	5. Chapter 4: The Unforgivable Curses

_**Chapter Four**_

_The Unforgivable Curse_

–

_Damaged people are dangerous,  
__they know how to survive._

–

I stared directly at the ceiling the entire night, allowing Alicia's incessant obnoxious snores to go in one ear and out the other. My stomach remained in knots, causing me to feel nauseous. I couldn't fathom having to see the man, nay the monster, who murdered my family along with Travers thirteen years ago. I started off terrified but as the hours passed and my mind began to mull over the reality of the situation I became furious. My fists were clenched when I heard Alicia's snores cease and Angelina begin to stir. Angie had no idea how detrimental the information she had passed onto me hours prior truly was. I couldn't blame her for not knowing. I'd never told her who killed my Mum, she only knew she was murdered and one of them was imprisoned. I climbed out of bed before the two other girls, threw on my robes before anyone was conscious enough to speak and headed down to breakfast.

No one was in the Great Hall yet, but when I sat down a plate full of bacon, eggs and toast appeared before me. I didn't eat it, I couldn't. I simply used my fork to swirl around my scrambled eggs. I rested my chin on my fist and stared down at my food with a dismal expression. Slowly but surely the hall began to fill with students, I was so consumed with my own thoughts that I was surprised when I looked up to see the twins sitting by me. I jumped slightly and dropped my fork, blinking several times.

"I didn't believe Alicia when she told us you got up early for breakfast, but unless my eyes deceive me I am witnessing a miracle. Winifred Rose McKinnon awake and– " said George in an initially boisterous voice, pausing for a moment and noticing my despondent demeanor. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I muttered, picking up my fork and returning to messing about with my food.

"It's clearly not nothing," said Fred, leaning forward and trying to look up at me whilst I kept my eyes on my eggs. "Are you jealous of our brilliant scheme to bypass the age requirement? I would be too. I mean, an Aging Potion, how ingenious is that? It only took us half of last night to combine our ingredients together. We'll be needing your extra Toad Tonic by the way... Winnie, you listening?"

"Yeah, Toad Tonic, I heard you," I mumbled, still looking away.

Even though I wasn't looking up at them, I could feel the twins sending each other worried glances. I really wished they'd just let the subject die, but I knew better than to believe that to be true. I felt George's hand softly rest on my shoulder. I reluctantly turned my neck to meet his fretful gaze. I think my intense dark circles and pale skin shocked him a bit.

"Freddie, what's happened?" asked George gently.

"I found out who the Headmaster is," I said slowly. "You know, from Durmstrang."

"Oh, no," said Fred, trying to lighten the mood prematurely. "Did Percy get a promotion?"

"I wish," I sighed.

"Then who is it?" asked Fred kindly.

"It's Igor Karkaroff," I said, laying it all out there.

Their mouths dropped, exchanging shocked expressions before returning their eyes upon me.

"That's not possible," they said in union.

"Someone would have warned you," said George. "I mean, Mum or Dad would have done something to stop this, someone would have–"

"Charlie tried to... sort of at the train station," I said sullenly. "But I understand why no one let on like this was happening. Honestly, George, what could Molls and Arthur do to prevent this? Arthur is already in hot water at work, and Molly has no say the matter. I don't blame anyone besides the idiots who hired the monster to interact with children. I'm furious that he is allowed to exist in this world after what he did all the while my Mum rots away in the ground. It's sick."

"What are you going to do?" asked Fred uneasily.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I haven't decided whether I want to avoid any contact with him or if I want to kill him. Though I'm leaning towards the latter of the two."

"Win–"

"I'm only joking," I scoffed. "I don't know what I'm going to do–"

"Good Morning, sweetheart," Alicia interrupted, sitting down beside George, placing a kiss on his cheek, and sending me a nasty glare.

"Oh, hey," said George, suddenly taken by surprise.

Katie, Angelina, and Lee joined our group as well. I retreated back to becoming fascinated with my food again, propping my chin atop my fist. Fred and George kept their gaze on me, knowing the topic we were covering should be temporarily put to a stop in front of outsiders.

"We got our schedules," said Lee, passing down slips of papers. As soon as my fingers touched the enchanted parchment my sixth year schedule appeared in black ink. "What do yours look like?"

"The three of us all have the same schedules," I replied indifferently. "Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, ugh... and Arithmacy."

"Same for me," said Angelina. "Minus the Arithmacy and add Divination. I'll do your Arithmacy work if you do my Divination."

"Deal," I nodded. "I'm rubbish in Arithmacy."

"And we'll copy from you then," said Fred.

"For a price," I smirked.

"Angie would be the one doing it!" he objected.

"And I out of the goodness of my own heart would comply to your request to share," I teased.

"I have Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Divination, and Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Alicia sadly. "That means I'll only have three classes with you, Georgie."

"Oh, how dreadful," I said, rolling my eyes. "I bet you'll die without him by your side for two bloody seconds."

"Well, you're certainly in a wonderful mood this morning," said Alicia coolly, purposely rubbing her hand up and down George's neck when she looked at me.

"There's just something about your mere presence, Alicia, that gives me my cheery disposition," I said snidely.

There was a sudden rustling noise above us, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. I didn't look up as I usually did because I didn't expect any mail. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Angelina, a brown package. On the other side of the Hall Graham Montague's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. I jerked my head back when a letter fluttered before my face. A tiny black owl, maybe even smaller than Pigwidgeon, tilted it's cute little head up at me and sent me a curious look. I carefully opened the letter addressed to me and began to read its contents.

_Winnie,_

_My Dad told me about what's happening at Hogwarts, apparently "the Ministry now sees it fit to release such classified information." As soon as I heard I had to make certain you were alright. I'm sure you know by now that Karkaroff is the headmaster from Durmstrang. If you didn't know, I'm sorry to be the one to break the news. I told my Dad it is absurd for them to allow that murderer to come anywhere near Hogwarts with you there, but he swiftly argued that Karkaroff had "never been convicted of such heinous crimes, and I should trust the Ministry's judgment." _

_Well, needless to say, that was the last straw. Remember how I had been eyeing that flat in London off Charing Cross? Say hello to its new owner. Don't go thinking I only did it because I was making a statement for your honor because I can just see you blaming yourself, so don't. You know how badly I've been wanting to move out. I move in next week, and I can't wait to be on my own... though I don't expect it feel much different. Anyway, if you ever need to get away... and though I am not condoning your elicit activities... just fly over for the weekend and stay with me. _

_I just want you to be safe and look after yourself, Win. If you need anything don't hesitate to write me. I'll figure something out and come running to you, cross my heart. Be careful, and I love you. Write again soon._

_Love,  
__Oliver_

_P.S. – About the owl, her name is June Bug (Finn named her, I figured you wouldn't mind), but she's yours. Consider her an early Christmas present... a really early Christmas present. I figured you may need some cheering up, and I also think it would be easier to write of we both have owls instead of having to rely on mine. She's stubborn and ornery as sin, so I figured she was perfect for you... only joking ;) Bye, sweetheart._

"Hi there, little one," I said, handing the letter for the twins to read as I absentmindedly praised the adorable little mite by scratched its head. "I have a May and now it looks like I've got a June."

"He got you an owl?" asked Fred. "Wicked."

"Aw, that's so sweet of him," said Kates adoringly.

"Yeah, he has his moments," I smiled quietly, petting the owl as it rubbed its little head against my thumb. I really was lucky to have a boyfriend like Oliver. He knew without even talking to me exactly what I was feeling.

"Yeah, he's a good guy," I heard George mutter quietly, handing me the letter back with an indifferent expression.

I ripped off the bottom of Oliver's message, pulled out my quill and began a quick letter back to him.

_Ollie,_

_Thank you so much for the owl. It must have cost a small fortune, and I love her beyond words. She's adorable. Expect an extravagant Christmas present from me in return, no 'buts.' Anyway, yeah I found out about Karkaroff from Angelina. She doesn't know about his connection with me or she would have broke the news to me more delicately. I'm still mulling over everything, didn't sleep a wink last night to say the least._

_In regard to you moving out... I'm happy for you, Oliver, really I am. I think this is a whole new chapter for you, and I know you're going to make the best of things. You just need to keep your mind on your game and try not to worry about me. I'm fine, honestly. I've got Fred and George here to talk things out with, and I'll keep you updated on the goings on as often as I can. _

_I miss you terribly, but I know I'll see you soon._

_Love Always,  
__Winnie_

_PS- Finn did a great job naming the little thing. I think it's perfect for her._

I scribbled Oliver's name on the front of the page, placed it in the tiny bird's beak and watched her flutter away.

–

We hurried into the front of the teacher's desk, took out their our of T_he Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Grade 6_, and waited, unusually quiet. George sat beside me and Lee beside Fred before Alicia could object to sitting by Angelina. She shot me a furious glare that I ignored after she took her seat. Soon we heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."

We returned the books to our bags, the twins looking excited. Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered. He paused on my name, eyeing me uneasily for an uncomfortable moment.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared the lot of us present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures – you've covered Vampires, Red Caps, Dementors, Augureys, Kappas, and Werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind – very behind – on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. Fourth to Seventh years will be receiving the same lesson today, seeing as the lot of you should have learned this long ago. We need to start now. I've only got a year to teach you–"

"What, aren't you staying?" Fred blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Fred; Fred looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled – the first time anyone had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Fred looked deeply relieved.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago… Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore… One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So – straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the seventh year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Spinnet, when I'm talking."

Alicia jumped and blushed. She had been showing Angelina her horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

"So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Fred's and George's. Moody pointed at George, though his magical eye was still fixed on Alicia.

"Er," said George tentatively, "my dad told me about one… Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody appreciatively. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. I smirked slightly at how Ron would react to such a sight during his lesson later on in the afternoon – Ron hated spiders. Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing – everyone except Moody and except me. I knew what the two other curses were, I'd seen them first hand and I knew they were coming soon. My heart began to race, my hands clinching atop the desk.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…"

I gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and we all knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Roger Davies' hand raised into the air.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Roger.

"There's one – the Cruciatus Curse," said Roger in a much quieter voice than his usual boisterous Irish tone.

Moody was looking very intently at Roger, this time with both eyes.

"Your name's Davies?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. "Yes, good work then."

Roger nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but I knew better than anyone that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently - "Stop it!" I shouted involuntarily. I felt everyone's eyes on me and George's hand on my leg affectionately.

"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse… That one was very popular once too."

"Winnie–" George began in a shaky voice.

"George, I don't feel well," I admitted hastily, sweat rolling profusely down my cheeks. I was struggling to breathe suddenly, my chest unable to rise and fall any longer. My skin was ghost white atop my trembling figure. I feared I would vomit soon, my head swimming. I'd never felt like this before, the closest was when I was surrounded by Dementors the year prior. What was happening to me?

"Right… anyone know any others?" asked Moody, his voice rising.

From the looks on everyone's faces, I guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Maddy Crouch's hand shook slightly as she raised it into the air.

"Yes?" said Moody, looking at her with an odd expression across her face. Moody's eyes lingered on her longer than any other student.

"Avada Kedavra," Maddy whispered.

Several people looked uneasily around at her.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra… the Killing Curse."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

Moody raised his wand, and something happened. I felt something overtake my body, everything. George kicked Fred's chair, bringing his attention onto me.

"Winnie, what's wrong?" asked Fred in a terrified voice, turning his chair backwards.

"I– I just...don't feel right," I replied quietly before everything went blurry and all I could hear were voices.

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air - instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Alicia had thrown herself backward and almost toppled off her seat as the spider skidded toward her.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it–"

"Professor!" I heard George call urgently. "Something's wrong with Winnie!"

I collapsed from my chair and began seizing, screaming in pain as if the Cruciatus curse had been cast upon me. I saw Fred and George's hazy horrified faces looking down at me. The classroom around me began to fade away as I fell into something that felt as if I was being sucked into a tube. I could hear the familiar voices become muffled as my body arched in an inhuman manner just before going limp to the outside world.

_The thunderclap shook the floorboards from the intense storm brewing overhead. The abrupt jolt caused the teacups upon the dining room table above me to clatter, the sound rang in my ears. May curled up as close as humanly possible in my small lap. I affectionately petted her tiny black head and continued playing with my dollhouse. The dollhouse had been handmade by my Grandpa Rudolf as my third birthday present. It had been my favorite gift besides May whom was a present from my Mum. My Mum told me the tiny kitten was a gift from her and my Dad, but I couldn't understand how that was possible. My Dad was dead, he was in heaven. How could he give me May? I wish it was true, I wish he had managed to communicate with me and Mummy from heaven. Unfortunately, even at three, I knew that was impossible._

"_Winnie dear, go and clean-up your toys please, it's ten minutes til bed," said my Mum in her melodious tone with her distinct emerald eyes shining, reaching under the table to affectionately pet my long raven locks. "And no whining, you're up way past your bedtime already."_

"_Yes, Mummy," I replied, dragging my dollhouse out from under the table. I had made bit of a mess on the other side of the room, and I needed to place my things back in the trunk my grandparents had designated to be my toy trunk whilst at their house. May dangled in my arms._

"_Oh, Marlene," said Aunt Abigail, resting her hand on her extremely pregnant stomach adoringly. "I hope the little one Caradoc and I have will be half as sweet as Winnie."_

"_Don't let her fool you," said my Mum, smirking pleasantly at me. "She's a handful especially when she's around Molly's twins her age. I swear, Abs, they are three peas in a pod. It's almost eerie, like looking into the past."_

"_They look like Fabian and Gid I wager?" asked Uncle Caradoc Dearborn, adjusting his glasses in thought._

"_Spitting images," she replied in an almost despondent voice. "You can already tell they've got their knack for mischief as well."_

"_It must be in the blood," Grandma Eleanor smirked. "I remember those two spending the summer here your fifth year I believe... yes, that was the summer I somehow came across two dozen angry gnomes in my attic."_

"_Well, you asked us to clean-up the attic and de-gnome the garden," said Marlene fondly. "We figured we could kill two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, the gnomes were more determined to destroy the attic than clean it."_

"_Imagine that," said Grandpa Rudolf sarcastically, laughing to himself before sipping his tea. "A gnome acting like a gnome, I can't believe it."_

_The five of them laughed lightly as heavy rain thrashed against the windows and a bolt of lightening struck across the prairie field, illuminating the pitch-black night for only a second or two. _

"_I miss those boys," said Grandma Eleanor thoughtfully. _

"_I'm still shocked you're with me after how long you and Fabian were together," said Uncle Caradoc. "I mean, it was what five years?"_

"_It was six, but come now, Doc," Aunt Abby teased, playfully pinching his chin between her index finger and thumb. "How could I not fall head over heels for that face."_

"_Fabian was never one for marriage," my Mum said in a quiet voice. "Abby wanted to get married and start a family, he didn't... until she started seeing you that is. He would have done anything to win you back, Abs."_

"_He and Gideon were so alike, but so different," said Aunt Abby. "Gid would have asked you to marry him when you two were kids if he knew you'd say 'yes.' Merlin, he was right furious when you and Benjy got engaged and when you got pregnant for that matter."_

"_Well, fate ended up having other plans for Ben and I," said Mummy, peering down at her tea. "Then for Gideon and I too."_

_My Grandpa placed his hand gently on hers and sent her a fleeting smile._

"_Merlin, I miss them," my Mum added softly._

_I peered out the window, watching the trees outside wave about violently from the fierce winds. I rubbed my eyes lethargically before returning to my purposely slow clean-up, yawning quietly. Another earsplitting thunderclap shook the earth, knocking me on my backside due to my unsteady balance. My eyes landed on the same window that had only been blackness a moment ago. However, this time when I glanced up at the same spot I saw a face. A man, with a twisted grin, wiry gray hair with an odd hat atop his head. A shadow of another intruder stood behind him, but I couldn't see his face. The gray-haired man waved at me by bending his index and middle finger, winking at me in a manner that could only be described as horrifying. _

"_Mummy, look," I said simply, pointing my tiny finger at the man in the window. Lightening struck once again, making his already skeletal-like face appear more like a literal skull in an instant. I heard my Mum, who was facing the window along with my Grandpa, gasp and draw the attention of the four others onto the sight before her._

"_Travers," she whispered in a voice I didn't recognize. _

"_Marley, they're coming!" Eleanor screamed, rising to her feet so fast that her chair flew backwards from under her, reaching for her wand along with Uncle Caradoc and Grandpa Rudolf. "Take Winnie – GO!" _

_Uncle Caradoc forced Aunt Abby towards the bathroom, shouting at her to lock the door. Before I could react my Mum had scooped me up in her arms, May in the process. I heard the door burst open behind us. It must have knocked it clean off its hinges. Who were these loud blokes and what was their business? It must be the bad men Mummy is always talking about. My Mum held me firmly against her chest as she sprinted down a long hallway and into a room I knew to be her childhood bedroom. She slammed the door behind us, locking it with a quick flip of her wand. I could see red and green lights from the thin crack under the door._

"_Crucio!" bellowed the bad man with an odd sounding voice before a bloodcurdling scream rang out in response. _

_My Mum's eyes slammed shut for a second, trying to drown out the chilling screams of terror. I began to cry, sniffling loudly and hiding my face in my Mum's blouse momentarily before peering up at her. She was so pretty, gorgeous really. Her emerald eyes seemed to dance when she laughed, her smile infectious. Her raven-colored hair was cut to her shoulders though she usually sported a ponytail, like now. She could never be seen in anything other than jeans and tennis shoes, her favored attire. She was strong and independent, and it was terrifying to see her frightened._

"_Avada Kedavra!" called out the other man's voice and this time only a sickening thud could be heard. My Mum cringed, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. She began moving quickly as soon as a set of heavy footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway._

"_Sweetheart, you have to be quiet for Mummy," she whispered fiercely. "We're going to play a game, alright? You're going to hide in here until Mummy comes to find you. You have to stay quiet though, darling, if you make a sound then the game is over and the bad guys win. Understand?"_

_Her voice was shaky and crazed, her hands trembling as she held me close against her and lifted up the floor rug that was attached to a few floorboards. The screams from beyond the door grew louder, bloodcurdling screams that froze my insides solid. I covered my ears and shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks while I fought the urge to whimper. The doorknob continued to jiggle, my Mum looked back at it fretfully once more. With a swift motion, she pulled her golden locket over her head and placed it around mine. She held her palm against my cheek, looking into my eyes one final time. Her emerald green eyes were haunting, so bright they nearly illuminated the pitch black room. Her face was wet from desperate tears, matching mine. She was so young, so strong, so beautiful._

"_Mummy loves you, Winnie," she cried, pulling me against her to share an embrace._

"_Mum I began, but she hushed me instantly._

"_You and May look after each other," she whispered. "Don't come out until it's safe. Promise, Mummy, cross your heart."_

"_Mummy_–"

"_Promise me!" she hissed._

"_Cross my heart," I sniffled, crisscrossing my thumb over my chest._

"_That's my girl," she smiled sadly through her flowing tears, pushing a stray strand of dark hair behind my tiny ear._

_She placed me in the small crawlspace, closing the floorboards over me. The door burst open and for one second, a second that lasted an eternity, it went completely and utterly silent. Clutching May against my heart, I peeked upwards through a small crack in the floorboards. It was the man from the window, the man my Mum had referred to as 'Travers.' Her wand shot from her hands before she could react, leaving her powerless._

"_Why if it isn't Marlene McKinnon," said a cryptic voice. _

"_Travers," she hissed in an almost demonic voice. "You worthless bastard_–"

"_Uh-Uh, I don't have to take that from blood traitors," he interrupted swiftly, viciously. "Crucio!"_

_My Mum collapsed onto the hardwood floor as if she'd fallen off of something and landed on her back. She was contorted in pain, screaming in a way I'd never imagined. I covered my mouth with my freehand to prevent myself from screaming as well. After what felt like forever, she climbed to her knees and looked up at the evil man with hate in her eyes._

"_Now, are we ready to be a bit more pleasant?" he inquired wickedly._

"_Go to hell," she spat in a strained voice, earning herself an immediate Crutacious curse in response._

_A second set of footsteps rang in my ears, hurrying towards us. The second man was tall, __his black hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin but only emphasized the size of his rather prominent nose below his thick, bushy eyebrows. His eyes were dark, wickedly black._

"_Igor, what took you so long?" asked Travers._

"_Thee old bloke put up a good fight," said Igor in his thick, Bulgarian accent. "However, I came out thee veek-tor once again."_

"_Yeah, the pregnant one was much more of a chore than I expected," said Travers. "But I've never had a problem finishing a list of chores."_

"_Oh," said Karkaroff in a suddenly uneasy voice. "You deed keel 'er? I thought you would 'ave just tortured 'er a beet."_

"_Why would I do that?" asked Travers, aghast. "Just let her bring another parasite into the world?"_

"_Yeah," said Karkaroff awkwardly._

"_And anyway, I wouldn't want to ruin my perfect record. I've sort of made myself a collector of sorts, you know," said Travers viciously. "I collect the lives of everyone McKinnon cares about. It's a rather extensive collection, really. I'm quite proud. Let's see... I finished off her mum and sister, you managed her dad and brother-in-law, then I mutilated Benjy Fenwick a few years back, but my personal favorite was the Prewett brothers. I think when I blew the younger one, Gideon, to bits it was like I was destroying her too. I think she cared more about that lousy piece of shit than anyone. He had her picture clutched in his hand before he joined his brother in hell."_

"_You son of a bitch," my Mom breathed hoarsely, tears steadily flowing down her cheeks. "You'll pay for__–"_

"_Ah, but it looks like we've got ourselves the grand finale then," said Travers, ignoring my Mum's prior sentiment._ _"Where's your bastard?"_

_My Mum shot forward so quickly she looked like a blur. She dove towards her wand and successfully claimed it, pointing it at Travers from her side upon the floorboards and shouted "STUPEFY!" Travers was instantly propelled backwards out the doorway. My Mum somehow managed to clamor to her feet whilst Karkaroff was stunned by his counterpart's abrupt disappearance into the hallway. She swiftly took advantage of his shock and elbowed him in the gut, slammed his arm against the wall in attempt to knock his wand from his hand. She failed, Karkaroff's enormous frame had overwhelmed her petite stature. He threw her to the floor with one powerful swing, holding her to the ground by wrapping his large hand around her throat and pointing his wand to her face._

"_I'll kill you, you bitch!" shouted Travers from the hallway, thoroughly struggling to climb to his feet. "You and that bastard are as good as dead, you hear me? Igor, hold her steady, I'm going to find the little blood traitor so Marlene, here, can watch her die before I off her myself! I know she ran off somewhere. Keep an eye out for her!"_

"_Will do," Igor sneered, his eyes looking back at Travers in the hall before returning to my Mum._

_Travers' footsteps slowly drifted off and could be heard climbing the steps whilst everything else remained deathly silent. Karkaroff looked around the room and knelt forward to look under the bed for me. He saw no __one. However, once Karkaroff's gaze returned to my Mum, May released a wicked hiss up at the barbarian. It was loud enough for him to hear. I saw my Mum's eyes close regretfully, tears streaming down her cheeks. Karkaroff became suddenly motionless, before slowly turning his attention to the very spot I was hiding. Keeping his wand still pointed at my Mum's face, he lifted the floorboards and instantly locked eyes with me. May hissed loudly again, her back arching defensively. My face appeared doe-eyed, soaked from tears, my lip trembling violently. In an instant, Karkaroff's expression softened. _

"_Please," my Mum pleaded desperately, sobbing. "Please, don't hurt her! Kill me, but let Winnie alone, I beg you. Just please don't hurt her!"_

_Karkaroff didn't reply. He merely looked from me back to my Mum then back to me again, where his stare remained._

"_I couldn't find the little bitch," called Travers, his voice nearing. "Any luck in here?"_

_Karkaroff peered to my Mum before she frantically mouthed "Please" before he peeked over his shoulder to see Travers' shadow approaching. He looked at me one final time before he reluctantly shut the trapdoor back over me just as Travers reentered the bedroom._

"_I teenk she must 'ave told 'er to run for 'elp," said Igor. "She won't say a word."_

"_Probably, we'll search the field for the rat before we leave," said Travers. "Shame, I would have so liked to see the look on her face when I exterminated the vermin. Oh well, I'll catch the little bastard before it's all over."_

_Travers nudged Karkaroff away from my Mum, so he could have her life in only his hands. Igor slowly stood above the trapdoor I was below, one eye peering down through the crack at me. His expression appeared somewhat nervous, like he was frightened that Travers would find out he had lied about my whereabouts._

"_Any last worlds, McKinnon?" asked Travers, his wand pointed directly at her throat._

"_Good will always prevail over evil," she whispered._

_She wouldn't have been able to breathe another word because Travers wouldn't allow it._

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!" he bellowed._

_I covered my mouth again, muffling my scream. I cried harder than I ever had in my three years of living. I saw her face, staring without seeing and her mouth only slightly ajar. She was motionless, lifeless. I knew she was gone. No one had ever survived the killing curse. I'd heard my Mum talk about it before. Everyone I'd ever loved was gone, taken from me. I was all alone, owing my life to a murder. Why did he spare me after he killed so many before? Why me?_

I shot up, drenched in sweat so thick that I looked as if I'd just climbed out from a swimming pool. I was gasping for air, my mouth dry, panting. It was all a dream. I'd finally seen my entire vision, no longer would bits and pieces from my traumatic night haunt my conscious. My vision was blurred at first, unable to see through the darkness. Then I immediately recognized where I was, the Hospital Wing. It was nighttime, I must have been out the entire day. The twins had apparently been waiting for me to wake up. Fred had been snoozing in a chair beside me with his feet propped up on my bedside and when I woke in such a dramatic fashion he fell backwards into the floor from surprise. George, on the other hand, was sleeping with his head beside me, my hand initially in his. He caught me when I shot up from my slumber, wrapping his arms around me affectionately and gently petting the back of my head while I hugged him tightly back.

"Why?" I gasped nonsensically. "Why me?"

"It's alright, Freddie," George whispered in my ear. "You're alright."

He held my crazed face away from his. I was shaking and muttering like mad for several minutes.

"What happened to you, Win?" asked George cautiously.

"I– I don't know," I said shakily. "I just remember being in Defense Against the Dark Arts... and then everything gets fuzzy."

"Well, you gave us one hell of a scare," said Fred, repositioning himself in his chair. "It was like the night it first happened with the Argyllshire Map incident but worse, much worse. You were seizing all over the place and screaming, your eyes rolled into the back of your head. We thought you we're dying or something. George tossed you over his shoulder and started running for the Hospital Wing so fast that I ended up half a corridor behind him before I could even process what was happening."

"Thanks, George," I breathed.

"Don't mention it," he replied kindly. "I'm just glad you're alright. Madam Pomphrey was pretty worried about you. She tried a dozen different smelling salts on you and forced a potion or two down your throat but nothing made you wake up. By the second day–"

"Wait, 'second say day?'" I said with an upward inflection. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days," said Fred. "Mum has been threatening to come and take you to St. Mungos, and apparently Charlie and Percy got in huge row about you being in an unhealthy environment thanks to the Ministry. Dumbledore has stopped in I don't even know how often. Katie wrote Oliver, and he's been writing for updates on you every hour since. I don't really know what to write back to him now. I guess I'll just tell him you came to from your... slumber... trance... thingy?"

"Just tell him I woke up," I said.

"Well, what happened exactly?" asked George wearily. "Did you have another vision?"

"It wasn't a _future_ vision," I replied. "I– I saw my Mum, the night she died. It was like I was reliving it. I could actually remember what happened, everything. It was like I was there again."

"I'm sorry, Freddie," said George genuinely. "I image that was awful."

"I just don't understand how I could have forgotten what all occurred," I explained. "I wish I still had the memory erased, because now I feel like I owe my life to Igor Karkaroff."

"Pardon?" the twins said in unison.

"He found me hiding when Travers left the room to look for me," I explained breathlessly. "My Mum, she pleaded to him for my life and he complied. He pretended he never saw me. I don't understand why. I mean, he had just killed my Grandpa and my Uncle."

"Well, it doesn't matter why he did it," said Fred. "Just thank Merlin he did do it."

"The idea of owing my life to him makes me sick," I replied.

"You owe your life to Marlene," said George firmly. "You _only_ owe your life to your Mum."

"I know, but I still feel almost dirty now," I said. "Because of that I know now what I'm going to do when I see Karkaroff at Hogwarts. I'm going to ask him why he spared me, why he saved my life."

"Do you really want to know the answer?" asked Fred.

"I _need _to know more than anything," I replied. "I just feel like I've been trying to forget about my past instead of trying to embrace it. I mean, what do I really know about my parents? I look exactly like my Mum, but I have my Dad's eyes. Their birthdays were in May, and they were both was an Aurors. My Mum was Irish. That's about the extent of it. I don't even know how they met. I've been afraid to ask Molls or Arthur anything about my parents because I felt like I'd be insulting them. I mean, they've just been so great to me over the years, and I don't want them to think I'm unappreciative."

"They know you love them," said George.

"I know, but part of me is nervous to find more about my parents," I replied. "What if I'm nothing like them?"

"Mum is always saying you're the spitting image of your Mum," said Fred.

"Looking like her isn't the same," I said. "I feel like there is so much about her past that I don't know like who she admired, what she liked, who she loved."

"She loved your dad," said George. "We know that."

"And your uncle apparently," I muttered.

"Gideon?" asked Fred.

"Yeah, she was talking about it with my Aunt Abby," I said. "She was best mates with Gideon and Fabian I guess."

"I suppose it makes sense," said Fred, shrugging. "I can remember, briefly mind you, that whenever you came over to our house when we were little that Uncle Gid was usually there with your Mum. I never really put two and two together. Do you think they... you know, were together?"

"Yeah, she made it sound that way," I said. "I mean, my Dad had been dead almost three years. Why wouldn't she move on? I'm not doubting her fidelity or anything by the way. I know I'm my Father's daughter, ask _Cassandra – bloody – Vablatsky_."

"You'll be able to ask her anything you like next Sunday evening," said a familiar voice.

Professor Dumbledore entered through the heavy wooden doors. He had a friendly smile on his wise old face as he strode into the room filled with two long lines of empty bed, excluding mine. George moved from my bed to the chair behind him.

"I'm happy to see you've come to," said Dumbledore kindly, sitting carefully at my bedside.

"Thank you, sir, I am too," I nodded weakly.

"Your great-grandmother will be pleased to hear as well... though I'm sure she is probably already aware," he smirked.

"She probably knew before I did," I replied humorously.

"Too true," said Dumbledore. "I spoke with her recently, and we both agreed –with your consent of course– that your tutoring lessons will take place on Sunday evenings, eight o' clock in the Astronomy Tower starting the Sunday after this coming."

"That's fine with me," I nodded.

"Very good," said Dumbledore. "May I ask, Winifred, if you had another glimpse into the future? Cassandra informed me that this isn't an uncommon occurrence for young Seers developing their abilities."

"To have a seizure?" George scoffed before he could stop himself.

"To have episodes of uncontrollable visions," said Dumbledore kindly. "Cassandra explained that when a Seer does not know how to control their visions their bodies compensate by shutting down to give their mind full range."

"Makes sense," I said sarcastically. "No matter, but I didn't have a glimpse into the future, sir, but I did have one into the past."

"How so?"

"I relived the night my family was killed," I replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Dumbledore genuinely, patting my leg affectionately. "I expect you were hoping to never relive such a traumatic experience."

I nodded.

"You know, Winifred, I've learned over my years... my many years," he added, smiling wisely. "That pain, no matter how intolerable, is one of the most useful feelings one can experience because it lets you know you're still alive, you survived and you will keep on surviving. It's damaged people who are the most dangerous because they can still feel the pain, and they know how to survive more of it."

"Sir, your ability to make the most curt sentiment into something of a sonnet never ceases to amaze me," I replied, ruining the sentimental moment as usual.

"And you insatiable ability to ruin them with your redundant comments never cease to amaze us," said Fred wittily.

Dumbledore released a very humored laugh along with George as I sent Fred a look that said "_Oh-Hardy-Har-Har_."

"I fear once the three of you graduate that Hogwarts will be just the slightest bit dreary in you absence," said Dumbledore, still chuckling.

"With all due respect, sir, I think Professor McGonagall would beg to differ," I said comically.

"I believe Minerva just appreciates your humor in smaller doses," said Dumbledore kindly.

"Yeah, she appreciates our humor about as often as Winnie appreciates a bar of soap," said George sardonically. "And judging by the outrageous odor from her armpits, I think it's safe to deduct Professor McGonagall thinks we're about as entertaining as a loaf of bread."

"How utterly disgusting," I replied in a faux rage.

"I know, for Merlin's sake take a shower," said George wittily.

"I think Miss McKinnon's hygiene is quite above par, Mr. Weasley, but your point is nonetheless well taken," Dumbledore smirked coyly, rising to his feet. "Anyhow, I best be off to bed, the morning always seem to come when one least expects it. I'll inform Madam Pomphrey to release you tomorrow afternoon. Take another day to recuperate, I'll inform your professors of your impending absence so your homework will be delivered to you to be completed over the weekend."

"Thank you, sir," I nodded gratefully at him as he headed for the doorway.

"You're quite welcome," said Dumbledore. "Just get some rest... well, I suppose after four days that would be the last thing you'd want. No matter, good night all."

"Good night, Professor," we said in unison.

–

I hated looking weak, loathed it really, and lately that was all I appeared to be. I was always the strong-willed girl who tagged around with two of the most rowdy boys on the planet and now all I seemed like was their little damsel in distress. It made me ill just thinking about it. After I was released from the Hospital Wing on Friday I think that I was asked how I was feeling by about a hundred different people at least a dozen times each. I just grinned and bared it. Everyone just thought I had an appendicitis, my appendix just exploded inside me when I was in class. It was believable enough to a point that no one questioned it. A couple people asked to see my scar that didn't exist, so I told them it was to tender at the moment knowing everyone would forget sooner or later.

"Do you think it's silly of me to enter?" asked Angelina, sitting cross-legged atop her bed whilst I laid across my bed with my head hanging over the side. I was reading a new a recipe for _Ton-Tongue Toffee_ the twins wanted me to look over.

"Why would you even ask that?" I replied, setting the parchment temporarily on my chest before returning it before my face. "I think it's brilliant. You're going to be of age. It's not like you're cheating to put your name in like some people I know who will remain nameless."

"Now don't go insulting them," said Angelina sardonically. "You know Alicia would just die if anyone were to bad mouth her Georgie-Poo."

"Gag me," I said.

"Don't mind if I do," said a familiar voice, entering the room. Fred and George strolled inside our bedroom one after the other. Fred jumped on top of my bed and straddled me, pretending to choke me. I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself before pushing him off me. Fred made himself comfortable with his back up against my headboard while George sprawled out across his girlfriend's bed. May leapt up to lie atop his stomach.

"I thought you were with Alicia," I said in a disgruntled tone. "Where is that ray of sunshine?"

"She went to ask Lavender Brown for help on her Divination essay," said George.

"I'm utterly insulted she didn't seek out my assistance," I muttered sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah you hate each other, we get it," said George indifferently.

"Hey, wait a tic," Angelina interrupted suddenly. "How did you two get up here? The steps turn into a slide whenever a boy sets foot on the girls' staircase."

"I'm glad you asked, Angie," said Fred proudly, lifting up his foot to display a pink stick-on rubber pasted on the sole of his shoe. "New invention, it tricks the steps into thinking the male is female."

"It took you long enough to finish those," I yawned. "When did I suggest that? Three years ago?"

"Two, thank you very much," said Fred. "But enough about our genius, what do you think about the new recipe?"

"I think it should work," I said, handing the parchment to Fred. "Maybe add an extra Dragon Scale or two, but I can't see any obvious flaws or anything."

"Good, that means we can move on to our second order of business," said Fred happily, clapping his hands together. "Ludo Bagman."

"Still no word back?" asked Angelina.

"Not a syllable," said George. "We're moving onto Plan B, which ironically begins with a B, blackmail."

"For the record, I'm still not a fan of this plan," I replied.

"Get over it," said Fred. "You agreed to help us if he didn't comply, and he hasn't."

"Fine, whatever," I mused, "but what can I even do to help?"

"You can write," said George. "We'll make up a letter, and you can recopy it in you handwriting. That way, if he were to try and trace it back to us it wouldn't match out chicken scratch."

"Alright," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Just don't threaten to kill him or anything, torture is as far as my moral compass will go."

"You're no fun," said Fred in jest. "First you disapprove of us entering in the Tournament and now you frown upon death threats. Has Percy been rubbing off on you?"

"Sod off," I replied. "I don't necessarily disapprove of your moronic attempt to enter into the tournament, I just think it's pointless. I mean, do you really think you two could outsmart Albus Dumbledore, arguable the greatest wizard in history?"

"There you go underestimating us again," said George cheekily.

"All I'm saying is I'll believe it when I see it," I shrugged.

–

_**A/N:**__ Someone is plagiarizing my work, and I'm pretty damn upset about it. I've worked really hard on my plot and everything, and I get a PM from xoxFANFICTIONxox telling me to check out Chapter 8 of "I hate you, George Weasley" by donthonkmyorange and then refernce Chapter 6 of my fic "Crossed Hearts." Alright, here's my rant. I know it's just fanfiction or whatever, but I have never stolen someone else's work. I can understand admiring someone's work and maybe using it as an outline or example to what you want yours to be like. I get it. FredFanatic has been my inspiration for this fic, but if you notice, they are vastly different. Gr. Sorry, I'm just angry. Thanks, xoxFANFICTIONxox, for giving me the heads up. I appreciate it._

_**PS:**__ So this was overwhelming to write for some reason. I've been anxious to explain Winnie's past for awhile, and now that I've left more questions for you guys. What the hell is with Marlene and Gideon? Igor Karkaroff, a good guy? No way. And a dozen more. Anyways, everything will be explained later on, now worries.__ It may be awhile before another update. I have a twelve page paper to write on my Europe trip. I'll do my best though. Help me reach __**155 plus reviews**__ and I'll be more inclined to hurry up and update!_

_**PSS:** I made a NEW Winnie & George video on my Youtube account (TwoGoodLookingJews) if anyone is interested. The link is on my profile page :)_

_**Question for you: **__I made a poll (some of you already answered) on my page about the Yule Ball. I need your opinions on this because I'm still lost on how I'm going to work this. Winnie will not be going to the Yule Ball with George, sorry mates. Here's what I'm choosing between:_

_**A) **__Having Winnie just go alone, rock out and have fun._

_**B)**__ Have Oliver just show up at the dance to escort her. He will have corresponded with McGonagall behind Winnie's back and surprise her._

_**C)**__ Plan for Oliver to take her all along with Winnie involved._

_**D)**__ Ron desperately asks Winnie instead of Padma as a personal favor. _

_I'm fine with all of these options. I added some other ones on my poll, but these are my realistic choices. Leave me a comment after your reviews and tell me what you'd like to see happen. I'll make my decision based on feedback. If you have a different idea then tell me!_

_**Coming Soon: **__Winnie's tutoring begins with Cassandra, Karkaroff arrives, the Twins try out their Aging Potion, Montague is still creepy, Alicia is annoying, Winnie wants to see Ollie and the feeling is mutual, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**FANTASTIC FRIDAY**_

–

_THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH AND I'M GLAD YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS FIC TO:_

_**Mrz. HermioneJeanWeasley, djsfal, weasleygirl31, Just As Sane As I Am, annie-elise, MiaHammBailey, Kristina Riddle, InsignificantBlimp, takarifan01, spannieren, obsession-iz-a-good-thing, RatedRCouture, kmkm89, XxSenritsuNoTenshixX, emily, Kailie, mmmgirl13, Daliha, RandomChemicalElements, Lu Lu Reader, booklover555, Kath the Dreamer, SinCullen, angel2, itsalljustalie, harleyquincabaret**_

–

_**Ruxella:**__ I LOVE new readers! Thanks so much for reviewing. Yes, I hate when the couple a story is based on gets together in like the first thousand words and are just so happy and perfect. No couples like that exist. I especially hate when original characters are supposedly friends with their significant other before hand and there is absolutely no evidence to support the fact. That drives me insane. Anyways, I'm rambling. Thanks again!_

_**HunnyABee:**__ Thank you so much and I'm sorry I make you sad, but at the same time I'm glad I can pull you in like that! Thanks, lovie :)_

_**Maddie Black:**__ That is such a huge compliment! Thanks so much. I bet your twin fic was amazing, don't be so modest! I like writing the twins because my boy friends were exactly like them and still are. I'm lucky to have them, so I make Winnie appear that way as well. And though I wouldn't call this fic a self insert (because I don't like those) I put a lot of myself in her. Anyways, yes, Alicia sucks. I had to have one girl everyone hated as well as one boy being Montague. Though, in all honesty, I think Alicia is much more hated than him. I'll keep writing if people keep reading because, unlike my OC Briney, I love Winnie and I'm not embarrassed of this story. Thanks for your feedback again. I always enjoy it :)_

_**Nina:**__ Thank you for being so adamant about me updating! Kick me hard enough and I'll write more :) I'm so happy you're enjoying the story so far. I know I am too :) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Jillian Mastrano 101: **__Thanks, girl! This will be an interesting year, you're right! Thanks again for reviewing :)_

_**IluvKellanForever:**__ I'm so sorry to hear you're in a fight with you bestie! I'm sort of fighting with mine too. It's no fun, but you guys will get through it, besties always do! I'm glad this made you feel a bit better. I hope you guys patch things up soon. Thanks for reviewing :)_

_**Charlie'sDragon: **__Thanks for reviewing! I know, I can't stand fics where the relationships aren't realistic. It drives me insane. Thanks again :)_

_**wiatch: **__Thanks, Zala! I want to punch her too. Maybe I will have Winnie deck her before this fic is over ;) Thanks again for commenting!_

_**HadleyConlon: **__Thanks, girl! I'm loving your 3__rd__ installment loads! You should update soon too :)_

_**Kumori Gem: **__Thanks so much! I always love your reviews :) I agree with you. Winnie isn't the type of character to just listen to everything her boyfriend tells her. That's why I like her so much. Thanks again for your feedback :)_

_**Sort of Proud:**__ Yay! No one was assy :) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**A/N: **__If I forgot you I'm sorry! Tell me and I'll make sure you're included in my next shout outs._

–

_**Review.**_


	6. Chapter 5: The Talking Dragon

_**Chapter Five**_

_The Talking Dragon_

–

_There are as many ways of life as  
__there are people and every one  
__deserves a closer look._

–

_**Warning: **__This chapter is rated T for Teen. I__mmature sexual innuendos and cheesy inappropriate teenage jokes proceed this sentiment. Don't get offended, I tried to warn you._

Professor Flitwick's class was always a favorite of mine. As nasty as it sounds, he was easy to take advantage of. The twins were giants in stature compared to him, and he occasionally became overwhelmed with them and their height added into that. I was tiny even in comparison to Flitwick, but just being beside the twins made me seem like a giant of sorts. What was unfortunate about this situation this year was the fact that the Slytherins ruined our fun by just being in class with us. In fact, we had experienced a lot of bad luck in that department this specific year because we shared three of our five classes with the vagrants. Arithmacy was with the Hufflepuffs and Defense Against the Dark Arts was with the Ravenclaws. What this translates to is more Montague.

Montague and Adrian Pucey sat beside the table Angelina and I shared in Charms which was behind George and Alicia and in front of Lee and Fred. In all honesty, I didn't mind Adrian too terribly much in comparison to his other mates like Montague, Derrick, Flint and Bole. He may be a prat like most Slytherins, but he wasn't violent on the Quidditch pitch, and he was mildly agreeable when he wasn't around Montague or the other gits he hung about with. There was also the fact that was was bloody beautiful. Don't tell the twins I think that, they'd ostracize me for sure. Nonetheless, Adrian was arguably one of the best looking blokes in school and by far the best looking Slytherin, not like he has much competition.

We were learning how to use the _Accio_ charm that allowed the user to basically summon any object they desired. Montague had pulled my chair towards him so many times that it was beginning to scar the floorboards.

"Seems like I've managed to _charm_ you today, McKinnon," he smirked, beckoning me with the spell for the umpteenth time. He winked at me and I gagged in his face.

"Honestly, Graham, _honestly _do you really think that would make me abandon all my prior inhibitions and fall madly in love with you?" I snapped.

"No, but I was hoping it would," he teased, tugging on my pigtail playfully as I scooted back to my seat again.

"Mister Montague, please restrain yourself from bothering Miss McKinnon," said Professor Flitwick absently, returning to assisting Bole with his spell.

"It's just so hard," he said, making a sexual innuendo. "It's always hard when I'm around you, McKinnon."

"Graham, just so we're clear here," I retorted. "I imagine sleeping with you would be something like being savaged by a dead sheep... but you'd smell much worse of course."

"Ah, so you have pictured us together, have you?" he egged me on, reaching over and yanking my chair towards him. I slammed my feet in against the ground to skid myself to a halt. I stood up and grabbed onto my side of the chair and he held onto his. I noticed the twins and Lee begin to take to their feet, so I whipped my wand out and shouted, "_ACCIO BELT_."

With the tip of my wand still pointed at Montague's waist, the leather belt that had been holding up his pants dislodged and flew into my hand. He stood to reach for his belt but his knickers fell to the floor in the process, revealing a graying pair of pink polka dot boxer shorts. The class erupted in laughter as Graham fumbled to pull his pants back up with his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. Unfortunately, the laughter attracted the attention of Professor Flitwick who ran over as fast as his little legs would carry him.

I held Montague's belt in my hand like a prize, my hip popped out with a victorious smile across my face. Professor Flitwick reached up and pulled the belt from my grasp and shoved it into Montague's pudgy hands, causing his pants to temporarily fall again and another roar of laughter to take place.

"Miss McKinnon, how utterly inappropriate!" he gasped, looking up at me. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor! Mister Montague, you're excused to go – handle yourself."

"I wouldn't advise that, Professor," said Fred airily. "I think ole Montague handles himself a bit too much already. I mean, you saw those unmistakable stains on his under–"

"Mister Weasley, that is quite enough!" Flitwick objected in his high-pitched voice whilst the remainder of the Gryffindors continued to laugh.

"Yeah, Fred, that's not very nice," said George, smiling deviously. "We know Montague, here, is better at sex than anyone; all he needs is a partner that isn't made of cotton or wool."

"He's implying a tube sock if you weren't catching on," I added, earning one final wave of laughter.

"That's it, _that – is – it_!" Flitwick shouted. "Five more points from Gryffindor and eight o'clock detentions for the three of you! In all my years of teaching I have never seen such irreparable behavior!"

The three of us grasped our chests and smiled bashfully at one another before gazing down at Flitwick, batting our eyelashes.

"Sir, you flatter us," said Fred cheekily.

–

"That was hysterical," said George pridefully. "Good show, mates."

"Thank you, thank you," Fred and I mused, pulling up two seats across from George in the common room. They needed me to write out their stupid little blackmail letter for them, so we agreed to do so after class. Fred pulled out a couple pieces of parchment and his quill, sprawling it out across the table.

"Well, I'm embarrassed for you, George," said Alicia viciously, bringing up the rear and preventing him from sitting down in his designated seat. "That was so uncalled for, a complete overreaction. That goes for all of you."

"What are you talking about?" asked George. "You know as well as we do that Montague deserves everything we throw at him. If anyone is out of line it's him. I mean Christ, Alicia, you saw the way he was treating Winnie–"

"That's my point precisely," she seethed, "'the way he was treating _Winnie_.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked George, his tone going a bit nasty.

"You know exactly what it means," she snapped.

"You agreed not to bring this up again," George hissed, send her a look that silently asked her to shut her gob. That led Fred and I to believe whatever it was they were implying was a hot subject for them in private.

"If you would just agree to stop–"

"Alicia, we can talk about this later in _private_," he whispered fiercely, emphasizing his last word more than the others. Alicia rolled her eyes, released a loud groan, and stomped back up the girls' staircase. George rolled his eyes as well and frustratingly pulled up a chair across from us. The air was awkward now. Fred and I exchanged uneasy glances and tried to focus on the task at hand. However, Fred had to ask the question we were both thinking.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" he inquired.

"Nothing," he muttered, reaching for a slip of parchment. "She's just been a bit... _upset_... lately at how much attention I've been giving er– _you_." He nodded at me with a hint of shame in his expression.

"Me?" I breathed.

"She thinks you're a threat," he sighed. "She's been paranoid since you went off on her at the Cup."

"I– I'm sorry, George, I didn't mean," I began awkwardly. "Well, I did but I didn't–"

"It's alright, Freddie," he said, forcing a smile. "It's not your fault. I'll talk to her."

"Yeah, okay," I said uneasily.

I wasn't really surprised. How could I be? I mean, she hated me. It was no secret. I'd accepted it long ago. It bothered me at first in all honesty because Alicia had been my friend since we were eleven and out of no where she changed all over some boy. Well, George isn't just some boy... he's well, he's George. Anyway, I was just surprised that my role in his life was still an issue in their relationship. I had a boyfriend who I honestly loved, and she was still intimidated by me.

I remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout their ramblings about blackmail, and I merely nodded in agreement as they read me the letter I was copying. June flew in just as I was dotting the period at the end of the final sentence. I took the message Oliver had sent me and slid it in my back pocket, so I would have to read it in from of the twins in the midst of finalizing their little letter. I signed Bagman's name on the envelope after folding it inside. Fred took the envelope and petted June's tiny black head.

"Take this to Ludo Bagman, June," said Fred.

She looked perturbed, seeing as she had just gotten back from London.

"Come on, just one more letter for the day," he pleaded. "Pretty please with night crawlers and crickets on top?"

June reluctantly bit onto the envelope and took off back out the common room window.

"She's got your attitude, that's for sure," George teased.

"Sod off," I smirked. "I'm going down to dinner early, maybe write Ollie back real quick beforehand."

"Alright, I'm going to go try and talk to Alicia," said George. "Meet you two later?"

"It's just going to be you, Freddie," said Fred. "I'm going to run off to meet Angie for... er– _to study_."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate," I smirked, rising to my feet and heading outside the Fat Lady.

I pulled out Oliver's letter as soon as I reached the end of the corridor, reading as I walked.

_Winnie,_

_I have some exciting news! O'Grady announced his retirement today, and guess who's replacing him? ME! I can't believe it, I'm so happy. I feel like everything in my life is just falling into place right now. I have a career I love, a great new place to live, and a girlfriend I love. I mean, I almost feel like it's too good to be true, like I'm going to wake up and it will have all been a dream._

_Anyways, how are you? I know you've told me that you're doing fine, but I also know that you don't like people worrying about you so I'm just asking again. I hope we can see each other soon. I love you, Winnie, be safe._

_-Ollie_

_PS- Our first match of the season is a week from tomorrow in Grasmere. As you may already know, Grasmere isn't far from Hogsmeade Village, so if you would want to fly over to the match next Saturday afternoon then you could stay with me, in London, until Sunday evening. Write me if you're up for it and if you want to bring anyone along. Just let me know what you think._

I smiled subconsciously at the parchment. I thought of how much my relationship with Oliver had changed from just a year ago. We were always friends, but I only knew one side of him. I knew him as this nice, determined, Quidditch freak. Now, I knew him better than I ever thought I could. I understood why he is the way he is. After spending my summer with him it was like I was walking a mile in his shoes. I missed him, a lot, and I would definitely be attending that match to see him.

"Come on, Looney, you can do better than that," a deep, burly voice teased from around the corner before me.

I folded up my letter from Oliver and slid it into my back pocket. I recognized the voice immediately. It was Marcus Flint beside Adrian Pucey. Adrian was leaning against the wall, his arms folded and looking uncomfortable as hell. Marcus was standing over Luna Lovegood, dangling a copy of some magazine above her head. Every time she tried to jump and snatch back her possession then Flint would lift it higher, just out of her grasp. I'd never talked to Luna Lovegood before. It wasn't for any other reason than the fact that she was a second year Ravenclaw, and I was never around her. She had a reputation already for being weird or crazy which was the reason she had the nickname "_Looney_ Lovegood."

"Marcus, if you would please return my Quibbler I would be happy to have my father send you a copy of your own," she said in a voice that was oddly unperturbed.

"Like I would want to waste my time reading this rubbish," Flint laughed crudely, tearing the paper in four parts before crumpling up it up in his bear-like hands and letting it fall to the floor in front of her.

"As if you know how to read to begin with, Marcus," I said, rolling my eyes.

"McKinnon, fancy seeing you here without your Weasels," said Flint.

"Sod off, Flint," I spat. "Why don't you go pick on someone your own size, you know, like a two ton gorilla?"

"Why don't I pick on you instead," he smirked viciously, slowly approaching me. I didn't move, refusing to back down. I kept my eyes on his, my confidence unwavering. He looked me up and down, giving me a grotesque seductive glare. "You know, maybe Graham is right about you. You have grown into that body of yours and–"

"And if you so much as touch a hair on my head he'll kill you, and you know that's a certainty," I whispered a matter-of-factly under my breath.

Marcus Flint grinned wickedly, backing away from me slowly as he lifted his hands up. He knew the only person allowed to lay a hand on me, according to Montague, was Montague himself.

"Calm down, McKinnon," he chuckled. "You know I'm only joking."

"Come on, let's go," I said sternly, motioning for Luna to come over beside me. I placed my hands on her shoulders and led her down an adjacent corridor to take the long way to the Great Hall in hopes of avoiding more Slytherins. Flint kept a disgusting eye on me until we disappeared around the corner.

"Er– hi," I began awkwardly, stopping once we were out of sight and extending my hand. "I'm W–"

"Winnie McKinnon, I know who you are," she replied, shaking my hand.

"That's not necessarily a good thing," I laughed.

"You're best friends with Ginny Weasley's twin brothers," she replied.

"That's me," I smiled. "You're Loon... _er–_ _Luna_ Lovegood, right?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"So your dad writes for the _Quibbler_, eh?" I asked, starting our slow pace again, looking at her and tilting my head as we walked.

"He's the editor," she smiled fondly. "Do you read the _Quibbler,_ then?"

"Er– well, honestly no," I admitted. "But I did pick up a copy of it once with a two headed cow on the cover who was marrying a goblin or something like that. It was... um, _well written_."

"I remember that article," she beamed. "Silas and Bessy, their second child is due this winter, you know. Such a handsome couple..."

My eyebrows were raised as I smiled and nodded in reply.

"They seemed like it," I nodded awkwardly allowing an uncomfortable silence to encompass us, so I decided to ask the obvious question. "Er– so how exactly did you end end up at the mercy of Flint and Pucey?"

"Marcus cornered me and thought it prudent to harass me," she shrugged. "I think I'm just an easy target."

"Why's that?"

"Well, because I'm rather strange," she said as if she was declaring grass green. "Most people aren't fond of me because of that."

"You know a wise redhead once said," I smirked kindly, "being normal is overrated. I don't think it's possible to be weird if you're just being yourself."

"I wish more people thought that way," she smiled feebly. "Maybe then I'd have friends."

"Well, I'm your friend," I shrugged.

"You're just being nice," she replied quietly. "We just met and what would people think if they saw you talking to me? I mean, you're popular."

"First off, I'm not just being nice," I said. "Second off, I have never cared what people think about me, and third off, I am far from popular."

"Yes you are, you have loads of friends and you're pretty," she said.

"Luna, you'd fit in perfectly with my friends," I smiled. "You tell the funniest jokes."

"Your friends wouldn't like me," she said.

"Well, I beg to differ," I said. "Come and sit with us for dinner."

"Oh, no," she said as we neared the Great Hall, waving her arms in front of her waist. "I don't want to put you out."

"I insist," I smiled, "Come on."

I spotted the twins, Alicia, Kates, Angelina, and Lee sitting in our usual place along the Gryffindor tables. I led Luna towards them, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as I forced her forward. I stood momentarily behind the twins and Lee, looking directly over at the girls. I smiled as I waited a couple seconds for their attention to be directed at me.

"Where were you?" asked Fred, not noticing Luna at first from over his shoulder. "I thought you were coming down er–"

"Sorry, I took a detour," I replied. "I ran into a friend. Everyone this is Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is Fred and George, Angie, Lee, Kates, and er– Alicia."

"Hey," they all said in unison, except for Alicia.

"Hi," said Luna, her lips curling into a weak smile as she waved. I motioned for the boys to move down and directed Luna into a seat. She had just set one foot on the ground over the bench when Alicia opened her big gob. She had a very disgusted and disgruntled expression across her face.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Alicia in a snide tone.

"Performing surgery," I said sarcastically, degrading her intelligence. "She's going to sit with us for dinner, what did you think she was doing?"

"Performing surgery would make more sense," she snapped. "She can't sit with us."

"And why not?" I spat.

"Because she's you know, _Looney_ Lovegood," she said, sending Luna a nasty glare. "What would people think?"

"Alicia!" Katie and Angelina hissed in unison.

"I don't know, Alicia," I snapped. "They'd probably think 'Wow, they finally decided to replace that blonde bint in their group. It's about time.'"

"Winnie, it's okay," said Luna, pulling her leg back over the bench. "I'll just go sit–"

"With me," I interrupted, finishing my sentence. "Let's go."

I sent Alicia one final vicious look and led Luna down a couple Gryffindor tables. I sat down beside her and immediately took a hefty sip of my pumpkin juice. I was extremely angry, but I was determined to hide it from Luna. I could tell she felt guilty, blaming herself for me abandoning my friend. Well, you know what? If they were going to be prats then they could sod off.

"I'm sorry," said Luna sheepishly.

"For what?" I asked.

"For causing you grief," she said, "and after you've been so nice to me. I haven't even thanked you for–"

"Luna, stop acting so guilty," I insisted. "I don't do anything I don't willingly want to do, and don't thank me for getting Flint off your case. I'm always game for a good Slytherin bashing."

"Thanks nonetheless," she said, smiling weakly.

"It's no problem–"

"We've come to join the cool kids," said Fred, everyone but George and Alicia behind them. They all surrounded us, smiling kindly at Luna. I grinned at them, silently thanking them for their support. I looked down the tables to Alicia and George. George had his hand on Alicia's as if to console her for everyone abandoning her whilst she stabbed at her Yorkshire pudding with her fork. Fred had a very bitter expression as he took his seat, obviously disapproving of George's choice. I'd never seen a look like that from Fred before to be honest.

"So, Luna, are you excited for the Triwizard Tournament?" asked Katie kindly.

"Oh, quite," she nodded.

"How do you reckon they pick the Champions?" asked Lee, trying to bring her into the conversation.

"Didn't you know? Dumbledore is going to free the ancient talking dragon that belonged to Merlin himself to decide who should represent Hogwarts," said Luna, unwavering. "That's how they decide to hire new professors as well. It is rather influential."

"Oh, that is... er– cool," said Lee in reply, nodding with the same expression I had when she told me about the cow couple. "I think I um, heard that too."

Fred smirked at me, winking approvingly. He would have done the same thing I did, and he knew it. A few minutes later the six of us were laughing and carrying on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I knew Luna wouldn't agree to tagging along with us, but I did know hat Luna had made six new friends.

–

"Two hours," said Professor Flitwick. "Dust each of the bookshelves and alphabetize the books by title. No magic and no messing around. I'll be periodically stopping in to check up on you."

"Yes, sir," we groaned.

Detentions with Flitwick were always rather droll in comparison to the other professors and Filch. We usually scrubbed caldrons, rearranged boxes, cleaned windows and floors, or some other form of manual labor whilst Professor Flitwick concentrated on some fashion of intellectual tasks. It was much more boring when you actually have to think during detention, even repeating lines on chalkboards required little to no effort mentally. Flitwick nodded curtly at us and disappeared back to his office down the corridor from his classroom we occupied and left us with three feather dusters. I yawned and waved my wand at the bookshelves, causing the dust to explode off the wooden furniture and swirl into the form of a twister until it disappeared into thin air. I proceeded to plop down on Professor Flitwick's comfortable chair and propped my feet upon his desk, locking my fingers together behind my head.

"Honestly, why don't they just give up trying to punish us?" asked Fred. "All they accomplish is teaching us their habits."

We knew from experience, a lot of experience mind you, that Flitwick sets an alarm for every half hour when he distributes punishment like clockwork. George climbed up on top of a medium height bookshelf while Fred sat cross-legged atop a desk.

"Well, what do you want them to do?" I asked. "Send us to Azkaban?"

"That would still be better than a Snape detention," said George. "His presence is worse than any Dementor."

"The only person who makes me prefer the presence of Snape is someone we knows girlfriend," said Fred snidely, coughing sardonically and pointing his thumb at George. "I mean, I'd rather snog a Dementor than Alicia."

I couldn't help but snort a laugh.

"Oi, Fred, low blow," said George. "Say whatever you want about me but leave her out of it."

"How utterly gallant of you," I said, rolling my eyes and lowing my hands to my lap.

"Shut up, Winnie," George snapped. "Stay out of it for once."

"Don't talk to her that way," Fred defended, his voice rising. "_Say whatever you want about me but leave her out of it_."

He purposely quoted George to be a prick, and I approved of it, honestly. I knew Fred was sick of George's actions, especially lately. I could tell that when he chose to stay behind with Alicia instead of not being a prat and treating Luna like a human being really bothered Fred. It wasn't like George to abandon all of his morals and accepting upbringing for anyone.

"Listen, I'm sorry you're miserable in your relationship –_or whatever it is_– but don't try to salvage it by being as big of a prick to everyone else as Alicia is to Winnie," said Fred crudely.

"I don't know what you're talking about," George hissed.

"How about keeping quiet when Alicia treated Luna like dirt this afternoon," he said, "or have you forgotten?"

"Well, I wasn't going to just leave her sitting by herself!" he objected.

"Oh, so just sitting idly by while she insulted an innocent stranger was the proper response?" I spat.

"I told you to stay out of it!" he roared. "You're the whole reason I had to stay silent in the first place!"

"Oh, you mean because I exist?" I shouted, slamming my chair down on all fours. "That's the reason she hates me, George, because I breathe the same air she does. I'm not partaking in your blame game, I'm not going to bite my tongue anymore–"

"You've never bitten your tongue in your entire life," George argued. "You are always making rude comments to her every chance you get."

"Because she does the same to me!" I fought. "She makes cracks at me all the time–"

"Yours are much more brutal and–"

"Because I have an IQ higher than a dust bunny!" I bellowed. "I bet she would too if she could formulate a complete thought without getting distracted by the texture of your hair!"

"Jealous then, Winnie?" asked George snidely.

"Oh, spare me, George," I scoffed, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest. "It's hard to ignore the sight of Alicia running her fingers through your hair. It looks like a monkey looking for a feast of lice. Bloody disgusting if you ask me–"

"Nobody asked you!" he roared. "That's your problem! You're always putting in your two cents when no one asks for your opinion to begin with!"

Where the bleeding hell did all of this hostility come from? We went from joking around to a full on, blow out row. I suddenly had no intention of bringing the twins to Oliver's match with me any longer, obviously more George than Fred.

"Well, since I'm such a Nosey Parker then I guess I won't invite you to Oliver's match next Saturday," I snapped. "I wanted to tell you he had tickets if you wanted–"

"Oh, come off it, Freddie, why would George want to go to that?" asked Fred, staring daggers at his twin. "He's so head over heels in love with you that the mere thought of Oliver Wood makes him insane."

I ignored that comment, erased it from my mind the second it escaped Fred's lips.

"SHUT UP!" George roared, climbing off the bookshelf.

"What, George, does the truth hurt?" he sneered. "Maybe Alicia can kiss it all bet–"

George abruptly propelled forward, knocking Fred off the table and onto his back. Fred was not expected George to attack him because he barely reacted to the blow. I shot up from my chair, knocking it over in response, and sprinted to overlook the pair of idiots. I'd seen them physically fight before, this was far from the first time. I'd never seen them fight with such anger before. They were rolling around on the floor exchanging blows to the face, blood splattering every which way.

"STOP!" I screamed helplessly. "STOP IT!"

We must have been louder than I thought because Professor Flitwick had apparently heard us. He burst through the closed wooden doors and shot a spell at the twins to break them apart the second he laid eyes on them. They skidded across the hardwood floor until each of them struck either side of the wall. Fred looked virtually unscathed, a tiny gash just under his hairline and a visible bruise around his right eye, as a couple books fell on top of him because of the force his back had hit the bookcase. George, on the other hand, had a sizable cut across his cheek and a fat, bloody lip. Forgetting about his rude comments, I darted over to his twitching body on the floor. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and placed a significant amount of pressure upon his wound. He flinched as soon as the cloth touched his cut, but I continued to apply pressure.

"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?" asked Flitwick, out of breath from running and all the commotion.

The twins started pointing fingers and trying to deliver their own stories to what had exactly happened between them.

"Ah, yes that tends to be the definition of a fight," Flitwick sighed, "several interpretations of the same action. Now, Miss McKinnon, seeing as you are the only party that managed to remain unscathed, pleased indulge me to what really occurred while I was indisposed."

"Er– in all honesty, Professor, I have no idea," I shrugged, leaving George to hold my handkerchief on his wound so I could stand up again and walk over to help Fred to his feet. "It happened really fast. I mean, we were just joking around and then... well, you saw the end product."

"Why is it that you three cannot just do what you're told?" he inquired.

"Professor, if you can ever find the answer to that question I'm certain Molly Weasley would be happy to pay a hefty price for it," I replied, checking Fred's small gash for a moment.

"Not funny, Miss McKinnon," he replied. "I've had enough of your antics tonight. You two go and see Madam Pomphrey. I'll be speaking to your Head of House about your behavior. She'll decide what will be a suitable punishment for the three of you. Now, off with you."

"Yes, sir," we mumbled.

–

We walked in complete silence three fourths of the way to the Hospital Wing. I had to stand in the middle, mostly to make sure they wouldn't attack each other again. They both kept their eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at one another. I, on the other hand, continuously shot uneasy glances up at either of the gits. I finally decided to break the painful quiet when we were nearly there.

"So..." I began awkwardly. "You two fight like a bunch of girls."

"That's a compliment if the girls fight like you," said Fred, smirking despite himself.

"Aw, you're a doll," I teased, smiling and batting my eyelashes. "Your turn to compliment me, George, go on, make it a good one."

"Give it a rest, Win," said George in an exasperated tone.

"Come now, George, cheer up," I smirked. "I'm just trying to clear the hostile air between the three of us. I don't want another two month rift between us."

"Well, tell George to apologize," said Fred coldly.

"George, Fred would appreciate an apology," I said in a condescending voice.

"Tell Fred he can bloody well piss off," said George.

"Fred, George would like me to tell you to bloody well piss off–"

"Ugh, I heard him," Fred snapped. "What the hell, George? You've never lashed out at me before–"

"Well, you've never acted like such a git before," said George. "I'm so sick of getting grief from everyone about Alicia."

"What a coincidence," said Fred sardonically. "I'm so sick of Alicia making you so moronic."

"To be fair, Fred, George has always been a bit moronic," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "And you've always been a bit of a git for that matter."

"How are you easily able to joke after how nasty he was to you only a few minutes ago?" asked Fred, turning his attention to me.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I understand why he's upset, I suppose. I mean, it's hard to have a relationship with other people butting in, and even though I think Alicia is an awful girl, I really do by the way, I know how it feels to be stressed out like that. I guess I could keep my comments to myself more often."

"You are legitimately the most confusing human being I know," said Fred. "And because of that I guess the rumors are true."

"What?" I inquired.

"You really must be a girl," he grinned.

"Shut up," I smirked, punching his arm. "You should be nice to me since I'm the one who is kind enough to offer you free tickets to a Puddlemere match, that goes for you too, George."

"Alicia wouldn't let me go," George frowned.

"I'm going to see Oliver," I sighed. "What does she think is going to happen in front of my boyfriend?"

"I dunno," he replied.

"Well, what if Angelina came with Fred and Alicia came along too," I asked. "It would be something of a triple date weekend. I bet Lee and Katie would want in on it too."

"I don't think she'd go for it," he said.

"She can sod off then," said Fred. "Ang and I'll come whether they come or not."

"We can just talk about it later," I replied. "I'd prefer avoiding a topic that will apparently only cause an argument. You two really need to grow up."

"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," said George wisely.

–

I climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories, glad the twins had somewhat made up. They were joking around as per usual by the time we left the Hospital Wing. I didn't understand boys, honestly. I mean, they went from joking about to fighting to joking about again in an hour. And they say girls are hard to understand. I didn't bring up going to Oliver's match again to avoid a fight. I had another idea.

I yawned as I walked inside the room I shared with Angie and Alicia. I was exhausted and had my mind set on heading to bed early. However, I needed to accomplish what I was set on accomplishing. Alicia was sitting casually on her bed, sifting through a magazine with a singing witch on the cover. She didn't even acknowledge my presence.

"Where's Angie?" I asked.

"She had to help Katie with some Divination paper," she replied, not looking up. "She should be back soon."

"Oh, okay good," I said, sitting down on the corner of Angelina's bed and gazed over at her. "I sort of wanted to talk to you alone."

"Why?" she inquired apprehensively, peeking over her magazine at me. "You're not going to beat me up are you?"

"Not tonight," I smirked. "I just wanted to see what you were doing next Saturday."

"I don't know, why?" asked Alicia wearily.

"Because I'm going to see Oliver's match next Saturday, and I was planning this whole triple date thing with Fred and Angelina as well," I explained. "I just wanted to ask if you and George wanted to come along."

"Why are you asking me?" she inquired. "You don't want me to come, you only care about George–"

"You're right," I interrupted. "I'm not going to lie to you, George is the only reason I'm asking you. You see, Alicia, I've come to realize something tonight. I care about Fred and George more than anything else on this planet and that means I would do anything to see them happy. Unfortunately for me, to see George happy involves you."

"Gee, thank–"

"Let me finish," I insisted. "I want to clear the air with you. I'm not expecting to be friends again, because I frankly don't have any interest in doing that anyway, but I want to quit this unrecognized competition for George's affections we have going. I want you to know that you win. I'm not contesting that, and I don't plan on contesting that. I'm in love with Oliver, and I'm tired of you thinking I'm secretly out for George or something. Honestly, Leesh, if you make George happy then I'm fine with it. I'm just begging you to please stop trying to prevent George and I from being friends."

"It's not you I'm worried about," she admitted. "I know you're with Oliver, but I'm scared George still has feelings for you. I know he did before–"

"I assure you his feelings are simply platonic," I persisted. "So I'm begging you to stop giving him grief for spending time with me, and even if he did nothing would happen because I don't return them."

Alicia stared at me, contemplating her reply.

"Fine," she said reluctantly, "but the second I suspect something's going on then I'll go right back to–"

"Being a huge possessive bitch," I smirked. "I know."

Alicia rolled her eyes and shoved her legs under her covers, turning off her bedside light. I walked over to my dresser and began pulling on my pajamas.

"Oh, and Winnie," said Alicia quietly, her eyes facing the wall. "I still hate you, but I'll go to that match."

"Believe me, babes, the feeling is more than mutual," I replied coldly, "but thanks."

I was pleased to have spoken my peace to Alicia. I could now focus all my energy on what was really important, my lessons with Cassandra.

–

I climbed the steps to the Astronomy Tower, missing the climb I used to be accustomed to whenever I would make the journey to class. I was on my way to meet Cassandra rather than study Astronomy in this instance, however. Part of me was nervous, the other was anxious, anxious to get my ability under control. I could sense a nightmarish vision in the near future, and I needed to know how to prevent it. This could not keep living with horrific visions swarming through my mind. I entered the top of the Astronomy Tower to Cassandra sitting on the largest window ledge by herself. Leo, her enormous Irish Wolfhound sat on its behind beside her as she scratched behind his ears affectionately. She was already looking in my direction before I entered. She probably knew the exact second I was coming in. I gave her a half wave, without smiling and stood in place.

"Come, child," she said whimsically, beckoning me to sit on the other corner of the windowsill.

I reluctantly obeyed, hopping up on the stone ledge and wondered how she managed to climb her ancient arse up on her own. She eyed me in an odd manner, causing me to look away.

"'ow are you, Winifred?" she inquired.

"You're the Seer, you should know," I retorted.

She laughed, clearly amused by me.

"You are so much like your mother," she smiled. "Strong willed and quick witted."

"Um, thanks," I shrugged.

"Well, enough with small talk, thees shouldn't be long," she said, clapping her hands together. "I understand you 'ad your strongest vision thus far not long ago? Eet was a past vision, correct, your mother's death?"

I nodded.

"I am sorry, dear," she said gently, placing her wrinkled hand upon my folded knee. "I 'ope I can 'elp prevent something so 'orrific from 'appening to you again."

"Why did it happen during the day?" I asked. "I'm used to these visions only being nightmares."

"You 'ave a very dark past," she explained. "Many Seers, especially young and inexperienced ones, 'ave instances where certain objects, people, or situations can trigger visions. Considering your childhood was so traumatic eet ees not unlikely that something out of thee ordinary triggered your vision. What were you doing when you experienced your loss of consciousness?"

"I was just in class... Defense Against the Dark Arts..." I said thoughtfully. "He was giving a lesson on the Unforgivable Curses, I think. Yeah, that's right. He was about cast the Killing Curse just as I fell out of my chair."

"Does eet coincide with your vision?" she asked.

"N– Yeah, actually," I replied. "I mean, I woke up just after the Killing Curse was cast on my Mum. It makes sense I guess. How common are these things?"

"Not very," she said. "They become less and less frequent as you grow older, once you understand 'ow to control eet and that's where I come een."

"So how do we do this then?" I asked. "Is there some potion I can take or what?"

"Unfortunately eet ees not that easy," she replied calmly. "To defend one's mind we must learn thee art of defending one's mind."

"You've already lost me," I said curtly.

"I mean Occlumency," she explained.

"Occlu– what now?"

"Occlumency, child," she went on. "Eet ees thee magical Defense of thee mind against unwanted external, and een your case, _internal_ penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a 'ighly useful one, een my opinion. Eet ees a challenging skill, but to achieve thee peaceful mind you desire then eet ees necessary to master eet."

"How do I master it?"

"Well, thee mind ees not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on thee inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. Thee mind ees a complex and many-layered thing, yet quite weak when unprepared," she explained. "Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down feelings and memories that can interfere with complete control. You again are a different case. You are not necessarily trying to shut down memories but thee future instead."

"Is there a spell or something?"

"No," she continued. "To become and Occlumen one must be able to clear their mind or everything, achieve a blank conscience per say. There isn't much for us to attempt today because you need to practice on your own for a bit before I will feel comfortable testing your ability. What I need for you to do each night for the next week and every night from now on ees to clear your mind of all thoughts. You must go to sleep with nothing on your mind. You shouldn't experience any nightmares, severe ones at least. Then next session I will test your progress."

"So you're telling me that all I have to do is empty my mind before I go to sleep?" I inquired hopefully.

"Eet ees not that simple, but clearing your mind ees thee first step," said Cassandra. "Next week I will attempt to penetrate your mind and see what kind of mental strength you 'ave after practicing on your own. After that I will show you 'ow to manage triggered visions."

"All right," I nodded in agreement. "I'll do anything to stop this."

–

_**A/N:**__ This was mildly a filler chapter, I think. I'm not terribly proud of it. It's only about 7,500 words which is only like two-thirds the length of my usual chapters, so sorry. The next one will be much longer, promise. I'll bring back my shout outs as well. I've been completely busy to no end lately, that's why this took so long to post another chapter. _

_**PS:**__ I made a couple new trailers for this fic that are pretty decent on my YouTube account (TwoGoodLookingJews) you should check out. The link is on my profile page, so let me know what you think. _

_**PSS:**__ Help me reach 200 reviews, and I'll update sooner :)_

_**Question for you: **__What do you want to see happen in the future of this fic?_

_**Coming Soon:**__ The gang heads to Grasmere to see Oliver (I've totes been there in real life by the way! It's gorgeous and it really is by where "Hogwarts Express" goes through in the movies.), Winnie gives Cassandra's advice a go, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arrive at Hogwarts, the Yule Ball causes an upheaval, chaos, mischief, and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Review.**_


	7. Chapter 6: The Druids Dactylozooid

_**Chapter Six**_

_The Druid's Dactylozooid_

–

_They say if you love someone, you tell them.  
Right then and there, you say it.  
Because if you don't, the moment just passes you by._

–

I walked back from the Astronomy Tower, wondering how full of crap Cassandra was. I'd give her Occlu- er- whatever it's called a go. I had no other options, right? I had to at least try to clear my mind. I guess I did usually fall asleep thinking about something going on in my life. I just didn't know how hard it would be to accomplish a blank mind. Maybe I'd ask Alicia for tips... only joking, sort of.

I came back to a nearly empty Common Room. Only Katie a few giddy second year girls occupied the dimly lit lounge. She was scribbling notes from her notebook onto a parchment that guessed to be her homework for some class she had. She looked up at me momentarily and smiled. I grinned in reply and plopped down in the armchair across from her. I hadn't seen her or Lee the day before, and I was glad to have the opportunity to ask her if she wanted to join everyone next Saturday.

"Hey Kates," I beamed.

"Hey Freddie," she replied sweetly. "What's up?"

"Just what you're up to next Saturday," I said.

"Why?"

"Ollie invited me and however many friends to his match against the Kestrels in Grasmere," I replied. "We can stay at his flat until Sunday as well, go out in London, you know. Fred, Ang, Alicia, and George are for sure coming. I just needed to ask you and Lee."

"I know Lee won't be able to manage that," she said sullenly. "He got Saturday detention when McGonagall caught him sneaking into Ravenclaw Tower after hours last night. He said he needed to ask Davies about something in Charms, but I think the only charming he was trying to do was on that Dylan girl from Ravenclaw."

"Well, what about you then?" I asked, smirking at her story.

"I sort of already have plans," she said sheepishly, lowering her eyes onto her parchment.

"Really, what are you doing?"

"I don't really know yet," she shrugged.

"If you don't want to go, Kates, you can just tell me," I smiled.

"It's not that I don't want to go," she said quickly. "I just... I mean, I just kind of have a date is all."

"Kathryn Elizabeth Bell," I teased. "You saucy minx. Who's the lucky bloke?"

"You have to swear not to tell anyone," she whispered. "I haven't told a soul yet. I'm scared they'll judge me."

"Cross my heart," I grinned. "And come off it, Katie, no one is going to judge you. Is it Roger Davies? I know you guys are pretty chummy."

"No, it's er– well, it's Adrian," she said quietly, eyeing the second years to make sure they weren't eavesdropping.

"PUCEY?" I gasped.

She shot forward and covered my mouth with her hand, putting her index finger before her lips to silence me. The girls behind us ceased their conversation and looked suspiciously at us. Katie sent them a sugary grin and cautiously took her hand off my mouth and sat back in her seat.

"Yes, and keep it down, will you?" she hissed.

"Shut up," I giggled, unashamed that I was acting like Alicia for the moment. "You lucky scoundrel. He's bloody gorgeous!"

"So you're not disappointed in me?"

"No," I laughed. "I mean, yeah he is a Slytherin, but he's a halfway decent one. How did this happen?"

"Well, he moved next door to me this summer," she explained. "His parents befriended my parents, our dads were in Ravenclaw together and as our parents started spending more time together so did we. Our little sisters became the best of mates and well, so did we I suppose. Nothing is official with us yet, but I'm sort of hopeful..."

"Oh, Kates, I'm so happy for you," I beamed.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" she inquired a bit anxiously. "I don't want to jinx it, and I'd like telling everyone one by one after I'm certain to whether or not anything will come of it."

I crisscrossed my thumb over my chest and smiled.

"I won't breathe a word," I replied.

–

Oliver sent me a Puddlemere United hooded sweatshirt as soon as I wrote him that I would be attending his match with my mates as well. It was the standard official Puddlemere navy blue sweatshirt with 'Wood' and his number '5' on the back and a new set of gold-colored gloves to keep me warm in the ever nearing cold weather.

The twins and I attempted to race each other on our brooms all the way to Eaglehorn's Tavern (which was the pub Oliver recommended for a good breakfast spot). We'd gotten up before the sun had risen in attempt to leave more inconspicuous. The twins had played dirty and soared ahead to find the pub before we three girls. When we finally reached the bloody restaurant they were sitting at a table set for five, looking wide-awake. The sipped carelessly on matching glasses of orange juice, their feet propped up on the wooden table. Fred set his feet back on the wooden floor, holding his hands together on his lap, sporting a cheeky grin.

"We ordered you sausage and toast," said George, pulling out the chair beside him for Alicia though he spoke to me.

"Well, if you really knew me as well as you think you do then you would have ordered me bacon," I joked, crossing my arms and sitting on Fred's other side.

"The sausage is for us," said Fred, smiling wisely.

Fred and George both were even sporting the Puddlemere United team colors. Sitting down, I took a gulp of Fred's drink and plopped my elbows down on the tabletop.

"If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee," I gagged.

Moments later our breakfast arrived from the porgy cook, it was probably the most disgusting meal we'd ever been presented.

"Aren't any of you the slightest bit worried about what's going to happen if McGonagall figures out we took off?" asked Alicia, taking a hefty bite from her utterly burnt toast and jam.

"Nah, we got Ron to cover for us," said Fred.

"Though he didn't really have much of a choice," said George, sticking his fork into one of my sausages and biting into it.

"We told him we'd turn his pillow into a tarantula while he was sleeping," said Fred, gnawing on his rubber like breakfast meat.

"Again," said George, pointing his index finger in the air.

"Yeah, again," said Fred.

I smirked and rolled my eyes, struggling to swallow my immensely dry toast.

"You know I think this sausage needs something," said George, examining the sausage on his fork before his face.

"Yeah," I frowned. "Just a little salt…pepper…mustard… ketchup…and _flavor_."

"Well, I don't think it's his fault the meat is stodgy," said Fred, smiling slightly. "I don't think this was meant to be taken internally to begin with."

"Clearly not," I said, sniffing the final sausage link on my plate with a look of sheer disgust.

–

Several hours later, after we scoured the area for interesting shops to poke around in, we arrived at Grasmere Stadium a little before noon. The Kestrel's fans appeared to nearly equal Puddlemere United's, I supposed it should have been expected considering they were rivals. I couldn't contain my smile as we followed the usher to our seats, though some of the reason my stomach ached was from the dismal breakfast I ingested. We were as close to the home team goal posts as possible. The stadium was filled with a sea of blue and gold mixed with green and yellow. Fred, Angelina and George seemed to be quite pleased with where we were sitting while Alicia had no idea what were considered good seats from sitting on dirt.

"Brilliant seats," said Fred, making himself comfortable beside me and Angelina. "You should try to date someone from Ireland next, Freddie."

I elbowed Fred in the gut playfully.

"I'm not that petty," I objected.

"But we are," George joked, sitting down on my other side beside Alicia.

Suddenly, the announcer's voice could be heard throughout the stadium. I sat up straight, my hands latched tightly together in my lap. George and Fred rolled their eyes at me in a disapproving manner.

"Welcome all to the first exhibition match of the preseason for your Puddlemere United and Kenmore Kestrels!" the announcer bellowed, gathering several thousand cheers from surrounding fans. "Now how about giving your starting players a hand? Introducing from Puddlemere... Let's hear it for those burly brothers, your Puddlemere Beaters: Mark and Marlin McKay..."

I turned anxiously to George, an obnoxiously giddy grin plastered across my face.

"– Chasers: Mick O'Neil, Gaius Mulroney, Zora Volgograd..."

"This is all so exciting, isn't it?" I beamed.

"– Seeker: Jasper McQueen..."

"Oh, yeah," said George lethargically. "I can barely contain my enthusiasm."

"– and Keeper Oliver Wood…"

I took to my feet in an instant, clapping wildly beside Fred and Angelina. I didn't really notice George wasn't cheering Oliver on as the handsome Keeper stormed out from the gates on his broom. I placed my hands around my mouth and hooted and hollered along side the countless moronic teenage girls who swooned at the sight of him. Oliver flew about gracefully, pausing for only a moment, swooping towards the five of us and flashing me a wink.

"You best keep both your eyes open if you're going to have a chance, you silly git," I teased with a smile, cupping my hands around my mouth so he could hear me loud and clear.

"Then quit distracting me with those pretty blue eyes of yours," he shouted back in jest, knowing I would gag from his mushy-gushy comment. He smiled slyly once more before returning to his goal post.

I sat back down only to feel a sharp poke along my spine. A short blonde haired girl, who couldn't have been more than ten, had jabbed me in the back to get my attention. She looked at me in some melodramatic state of amazement that matched the expressions of her friends beside her.

"Is h-he your boyfriend?" she stammered zealously, pointing up at Oliver.

"Yeah," I smirked nonchalantly.

The three girls giggled and began whispering fiercely to one another. Fred and Angelina smiled at me, chuckling at the girls' reaction to his comment. I wasn't as amused, neither was George.

"Oh, Winnie, you and Oliver are so adorable. Aren't they, George, aren't they just precious?" asked Alicia in a childish voice as if I didn't know she was trying to make it clear to George with her comment that I was happy with someone else. George kept his eyes straight ahead and nodded curtly in reply, unwilling to look at me.

"Yeah, thanks," I said fleetingly.

I turned back to the whistle blow from the official as he through the Quaffle into the air only to be swooped up by Kenmore's Chaser.

"Oh, and here comes Kenmore's first attempt on goal, it's Ian Iago streaking down the pitch and—" My stomach turned over.

"—Oliver Wood's saves it, Puddlemere seems to have made a decent pick up with this new Keeper, though he's got a lot to live up to after O'Grady's legacy."

I shot up from my seat, cheering obnoxiously loud for Oliver. Fred and Angelina stood up beside me as well, jumping up and down as the Puddlemere Captain scored down at the opposite center goal.

"Mulroney scores! 10 – 0, Puddlemere," called the announcer. "He better be living up to that hefty pay raise..."

With half an hour of the game gone, Puddlemere was leading fifty points to zero, Oliver having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his gloves. This effectively stopped the announcer's wondering loudly whether Oliver could possibly live up to O'Grady's talent.

"—Mick O'Neil calls for the Fortuna Formation, ingenious play! Volgograd to Mulroney to Volgograd to O'Neil and... O'NEIL SCORES! 60 – o, Puddlemere! That's why he's the Captain, folks!"

It seemed as though Puddlemere could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Wood saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favorite _"Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here! Let That Snitch Be Snagged And A Win For Puddlemere!" _I could feel his euphoria seeping from every pore.

"And I think Elwood of Kenmore seen the Snitch! Yes, he's certainly seen something McQueen hasn't!"

The Snitch was speeding along high above us, glinting brightly against the clear blue sky. Elwood and McQueen were in a Seekers duel, both accelerating to an unsafe speed. Then suddenly McQueen made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.

"YES!" we yelled. Wheeling around, he hurtled back toward the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand. As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.

The Puddlemere United players clambered off their brooms and congregated to the center of the field to celebrate whilst we all sang Puddlemere's anthem, _"Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here!" _The whole team hugged McQueen, but let go after a moment to congratulate Oliver on his first non-scrimmage match. The Puddlemere team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters while Kenmore left in silence, heads hung low. The match must have lasted a little less than an hour, though it seemed like it was only a couple seconds. I was so proud of Oliver. He had moved brilliantly; elegantly blocking every Quaffle that was tossed at him.

As the cheers began to dwindle after a little while and the crowd began to thin, the others visibly grew restless. I can hardly blame them, it was taking Oliver awhile to return from changing. I had the others wait outside the stadium whilst I went to stand outside the locker room and wait for Oliver to exit. I felt out of place amongst numerous reporters and photographers who were waiting beside me. Finally after another ten or so minutes, Oliver was the first to depart from the locker room, dropping his dufflebag and swooping me up into his arms and kissing me. He had changed into a dark pair of jeans and a sports jacket, looking devilishly handsome. I smiled against his lips before he set me down and slung his arm over my shoulders, pulling me against him. We tried sidestepping the flashes from cameras and questions from reporters but it was soon apparent that it was easier to just answer them instead of having them follow you down the street like beggars.

"Brilliant match, Wood!" shouted one stout reporter with a hat too small for his balding head. "Regis from _The Daily Prophet_, how are you adjusting to the team?"

"Thanks," said Oliver a bit awkwardly, blinded by the numerous flashes of light. "Er– I'm adjusting just fine, my teammates are great. We all get along brilliantly. I really feel welcome and at home with Puddlemere."

"– have you found it difficult to concentrate with all the pressure to live up to O'Grady's legacy?"

"I just do my best," he shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not going to try to think about playing as well as other players. I'm just going to be the best player and teammate I can be and maybe make my own legacy."

"— do you anticipate success in your division this year?"

"Of course," he beamed, nodding as the man's quill wrote freehand. "We have all the ability in the world to take the division."

"– who has been your greatest confidant on the team since your transition?"

"I guess Micky, Mick O'Neil," he replied cautiously. "We're both veterans of Hogwarts's Gryffindor Quidditch Team, so we have a lot in common, but all the guys are my mates. Like I said before, we all have great team chemistry."

"Helga from _Witch Weekly_, Oliver, how does it feel to join the ranks of your teammate Jasper McQueen, with being suddenly swooned over by thousands of your female fans?"

"Er– I have a girlfriend as you can see," he pulled me closer momentarily and nodded down at me. "I'm not really concerned with impressing any–"

"– you, what's your name?" the witch asked, pointing the tip of her quill towards me.

"Me?" I said with an upward inflection as the woman nodded for me to respond. "Oh, I'm Winnie, Winnie McKinnon."

"– and what do you do?" she went on in a snide tone. "Are you some model or–"

"Uh, clearly not," I smirked, looking down at my short frame. "I'm just Winnie, nobody special."

"Well, she is to me," said Oliver to embarrass me. I rolled my eyes and swatted his chest, fighting a blush. He placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek as more flashes encompassed us.

"Dionysus of _The Quibbler_," interrupted a woman who I can only describe to have shared the fashion sense of Professor Trelawney. "Our readers are anxious to know... what are your views on the depleting population of Dacian Daboias due to the Druid's dactylozooid?"

(A/N: _Translation: the extermination of these mythological Transylvanian vipers by the ancient magical Celtic occult with their enchanted coral used as weapons. Yeah, I'm dumb._)

Oliver looked down at me, shrugging and smirking in a humored manner at the same time.

"Um, it's _daft_," he replied, earning an approving smile and zealous nod from the reporter who began writing with haste against her dazzled notebook.

"– alright, now what about the mutilation of migrating miniature Minotaurs of M–"

"No more questions tonight, guys, sorry," said Oliver, lifting up his hand. "We have dinner reservations."

He held me close against him as he squeezed us by the crowd of reporters. Several young female fans were the only thing blocking us from our ultimate escape. Oliver smiled kindly, signing each and every autograph from the giddy little girls. I felt terrible making the others wait another fifteen minutes.

"So are you nervous McGonagall will catch on that you lot took off?" asked Oliver, smiling as he signed another autograph.

"The woman is a marshmallow, honestly," I smirked.

"Well, tell that ole broad I say 'Hi,'" he laughed.

When we finally got outside the stadium the four were sitting on a nearby metal bench, looking lethargic to say the least. They all took to their feet when they saw us, hand-in-hand. Angelina smiled broadly, walking up to give Oliver a quick hug and congratulating him on the win. Fred shook his hand zealously while George merely nodded curtly beside a waving Alicia.

"Sorry I took ages," he said genuinely, "but I hope taking you all out for dinner will make up for it. The whole team rented out Paddy's Pub down the way to celebrate our first match. You lot up for it?"

"Sure," three of the four beamed, three guesses who didn't respond beyond a shrug. I ignored George's grouchiness and hugged my arms around Oliver's waist.

–

Paddy's Pub was a short walk down the street, just as Ollie had said. It was an old establishment with mostly wooden interior and exterior, a shiny green sign decorated the outside with its title in moving letters. Oliver had reserved us a table with six seats. I ordered the most delicious fish and chips I had ever had in my short life as did the twins, Oliver and Angelina. Alicia ordered a salad with light dressing on the side. Good for her. The other players began to arrive with their mates just as we finished our meals. It became rather crowded as soon as everyone piled inside, it was all sort of overwhelming. I'd met several of them before at the World Cup, but it was hard to memorize them all. The twins began chatting it up with Puddlemere's beaters while Angie and Alicia talked zealously with Zora Volgograd.

Someone put on the Weird Sisters and bottles of Firewhiskey began being passed around. Oliver poured each of us a glass and beckoned me to follow him to the open bar stools. Jasper McQueen and Mick O'Neil were both were in a heated conversation about something Quidditch related when Oliver pulled up a seat for me. They ceased their debate and turned to face us.

"Aw, Woody, is this the girl you've been going on about?" asked McQueen, taking my hand against my will to bow and kiss it. "Your description of her beauty doesn't do her justice."

I yanked my hand away and smirked disapprovingly.

"Yes, I'm _Oliver's girlfriend_," I replied curtly. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine, love," he teased, winking at me.

Jasper McQueen was a tall Irishman, about as tall as Oliver, but with bright green eyes and shaggy blonde hair that paid attribute to his casual demeanor. I hated to admit it, but he was an extremely good-looking bloke. I wished he wasn't. In fact, I wished he looked like an ogre, so it would be easier for onlookers to loathe him before he opened his perfectly chiseled mouth.

"Ignore, Jasper," said Oliver, sending McQueen a warning glare before turning his attention back to me. "He's just very affectionate."

"Yeah, that's me alright," he laughed. "Since you've already got dibs the best lookin' broad here, Ollie, I think I'll go try to get affectionate with the blonde over there talking to Zora."

"Her name is Alicia, and she has a boyfriend," I stopped him. "Who is right over there."

I nodded to George and McQueen looked unfazed.

"Are they serious?" he inquired.

"They're a step below getting matching tattoos," I replied, "so yeah, pretty serious."

"Bullocks," he sighed. "Well, maybe I'll just go introduce myself. I can always appreciate a new _friend_."

"Don't get to _friendly_, mate," I replied. "She bites when frightened."

"Rawr," he smirked, chomping his teeth together as if he was about to bite me in a seductive manner. I shook my head at him as Ollie, O'Neil and I watched him walk over to Zora and the two other girls. Alicia looked up at him curiously before turning her back to him, blocking him from their triangle. The three of us laughed at his expense as he tried to infiltrate them again and again.

"Sorry about him, babes," said Oliver. "McQueen is really er– well, he's really McQueen."

"That's the best way to describe Jasper alright," said O'Neil, extending his hand for me to shake. "I'm Mick by the way, Mick–"

"O'Neil, I remember you when you played for the Chudley Canons a couple years back," I interrupted, shaking his hand with a kind smile. "You had a great match out there today. Over half the goals were because of you, brilliant form, really brilliant job."

"Thanks," he grinned. "Oliver here tells me you're quite the Chaser yourself."

"Oliver exaggerates," I smirked, poking his side. "I'm alright, but Angelina over there with McQueen and Alicia, is our Captain and she's the one who deserves all the praise."

I liked Mick, a lot. He was modest for how talented he was, a legend when he played for the Chudley Canons. I think he was in Bill's year, maybe a year or two younger though he appeared much younger to the naked eye. He was built much like the twins, gangly but confident. His auburn hair and golden eyes were his best features, for he was not over the top good-looking, but he displayed a gentle attractiveness when he smiled that was undeniable. I was pleased Oliver was closest to someone like him on the team. He was also easy to talk to, learning this after a bit more casual conversation between the three of us.

"So how are you adjusting to the life of a celebrity's girlfriend," asked Mick, beckoning the bartender for another pint.

"Celebrity?" Oliver scoffed. "I'm no celebrity, you're the famous one. I'm only getting a bit of attention because people want to know who they replaced O'Grady with. Official games haven't even began for Merlin's sake."

"We're going to be good this year, Ollie, everyone knows that," said Mick gently while still remaining in a stern tone. "With you picking up after O'Grady, Mulroney off the disabled list and er– McQueen's unsportsmanlike conduct suspension finally over, we'll be unstoppable. But even if we were rubbish we'd still get attention for... well, just being rubbish. It's inevitable once you start playing professionally. It'll be especially bad for you because you're new and young and er– good-looking... so you best get used to the reporters and overzealous fans always in your face."

"I'm not one who's a fan of the spotlight," he replied quietly. "I guess I never realized–"

"You'll get used to it, mate," said Mick reassuringly, patting Ollie on the back. "No worries."

I guess I never realized the capacity of Oliver's new lifestyle either. I mean, his name would be in the papers no doubt after games and people would come to see him play. I was never one for excess attention either, choosing to keep as low profile as humanly possible and now I was thrust into being with someone who lived in the spotlight whether he liked it or not. I swallowed a couple more mouthfuls of Firewhiskey and tried to drown out my thoughts with the alcohol. It worked rather well after a bit.

About two hours later the party had really taken off. I found myself dancing like a git in the middle of the dance floor with the twins, the two girls and Oliver. George who were more intoxicated than I had ever seen him and I jumped up and down to the tune of the Weird Sisters' new song, "Let's Get Wicked!"

"Let's get wicked!" I sung off tune at the top of my lungs, using the Firewhiskey bottle in my hand as a microphone and barely making a sound over the roar of the crowd singing and chattering around me. "W-W-W-Wicked!"

Oliver took me by the hand and twirled me back into him, laughing as we sang.

"You've got the body of a Veela but the brain of a Troll!" we belted out. "So let's face it, baby, YOU – GOT – NO – SOUL!"

Oliver spun me around again and again, and found it more and more difficult after every twirl. I looked around and saw Angelina and Fred dancing so close they were breathing in each others carbon dioxide. I looked around again and saw George and Alicia no where in sight. Then after a second glance I spotted Alicia on a bar stool sipping on a bright pink drink in a girly glass chatting a little too closely to McQueen who was casually spinning a strand of her shoulder-length locks around his index finger.

"Where's George?" I asked, leaning in so Ollie could hear me.

"I dunno," he replied, looking around but remaining unconcerned. "He was here a minute ago... probably in the toilet."

"No, he and Fred have some weird and slightly disgusting connected bladder," I said. "When one has to go to the loo the other one is always right behind with a lizard to bleed."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or revolted," he smirked.

"It's a bit of both in my opinion," I said. "But I really do need to go find where he's wandered off to."

"You really need to stay right here with me," said Oliver seductively, leaning down to kiss me passionately. I pulled away and gently pushed him away by his chest.

"You go and fetch me a water, and I'll come find you once I've found George," I smiled.

"Fine, fine," said Oliver, grabbing me by the back of the head to bring my forehead to his lips before heading off towards the bar.

I shoved my bottle of Firewhiskey in Fred's hands to share with Angelina seeing as they were already inebriated beyond repair. I passed Alicia and McQueen's flirt-fest at the bar and followed the hallway leading to the bathrooms. I checked them for good measure, and he wasn't inside as I had anticipated. I heard a grotesque noise that I instantly identified as the sound of someone vomiting coming from a cracked door leading into an ally behind the building. I darted forward in search of the noise's maker.

"George?" I asked gently, peeking my head out the door. "George, is that you?"

Another vomiting sound was the response to my question, and I knew for certain it was him. I hurried out the door, leaving a sliver of it open. George was on his hands and knees throwing up in the ally. He looked a right mess. I quickly knelt beside him, rubbing his back as he had done for me before. After one more bile excretion he collapsed onto his elbows, exhausted from his sickness.

"Hey, you alright?" I asked tenderly.

"I'm fine, just go back to Oliver," he said swiftly.

"I came looking for you, George," I replied, unwavering. "I was worried."

George snorted his disbelief.

"Come on, sit up now," I urged, trying to lug him up off his arms.

George swatted my arms away, determined to lift himself up. He lifted himself up alright but he quickly began to fall over again. I reached out, wrapping my arm around his waist and pulling him against me so his head rested atop mine. I rubbed his back affectionately as he lazily slung his arm over my shoulders to steady himself.

"You're alright," I assured him, carefully brushing his shaggy hair from his eyes with my free hand. "Let's get you inside–"

"No," said George suddenly.

"George, it's freezing out here," I insisted. "You've got to be miserable out here."

"I'm more miserable inside," he said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "You've been having a good time."

"I can't take it anymore," he said, hiccuping loudly.

"What?" I asked.

"You, seeing you with h–"

"Everything alright out here?" asked Oliver with a glass of water in his hand, peeking his head out the door. George sighed heavily and tried to get to his feet, pushing off my shoulders to do so. "George, you want some water?"

"Thanks, mate," he said snidely, jerking the glass from Oliver's hand, gulping down several swigs. He looked back at me and threw the glass at the concrete, shattering it loudly. George unsteadily bumped harshly into Oliver's chest with his shoulder. "And everything is just fantastic out here."

He slammed the door so hard after him that it flew abruptly back open.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" asked Oliver, looking after George who was balancing himself off the walls of the hallway every couple steps.

"I– I honestly have no idea," I said blankly, watching as the door slowly closed after him. "I think it's time for all of us to call it a night."

Oliver nodded, helping my back off the cold cement.

–

I gripped my open palm over my throbbing forehead, releasing a soft groan. The dim sun burned my eyelids, and I couldn't remember falling asleep. Well, at least I knew I fell asleep with a blank mind last night. I pulled Oliver's arm off of my waist, causing him to roll over in the other direction in response. I slowly sat up and swung my knees over the side of the bed. I'd slept in my clothes and felt disgusting. I could only imagine what I looked like in the mirror. I uneasily stood up on my barefeet, sticking my arms out initially to balance me. I fell forward and caught myself on Oliver's bedroom doorway.

Oliver's flat was nothing too extravagant. It was just the typical starter apartment; two small bedrooms, a combined kitchen-living room, and a tiny lavatory. Modest in stature, it did have quite a bit of personality. Quidditch posters, new and old, almost acted as wallpaper while countless medals trophies sparkled atop every counter or shelf. A few pictures of the two of us hung in certain places on his walls as well.

I passed the spare bedroom occupied by Angelina, who was partially hanging off the side of the bed whilst Alicia snored so loud it shook the floorboards. I still have no idea how Ang and I had become used to it. I quietly closed the door, giving them more time to sleep and crept into the living room which was occupied by the boys. They were sprawled out on Oliver's pull-out sofa bed. They were foot to face, Fred snuggling George's feet as if they were a teddy bear. I made a mental note to ridicule him later. George, on the other hand, looked rather perturbed. His head was jerking from side to side and sweating profusely. I tip-toed to the sink and filled George a glass of water, hoping this one he would choose to keep in one piece.

Gently sitting on the corner of the bed where George's head laid, I delicately ran my fingers through his hair to wake him. He moaned quietly in what I guessed to be pain but gradually opened his bloodshot eyes.

"What's the story, Morning Glory?" I whispered.

He looked down at his feet and gently freed herself from Fred's grasp. George sat up with great difficulty, taking the glass of water from my hand and sipping on it slowly before looking up at and shooting me a fleeting smile of gratitude.

"How are you?" I inquired.

"Well, at least Mum's house slippers aren't drenched in puke," he smirked.

"Hey," I objected a bit too loudly. "That was one time, and I bought her some new ones."

"Speak in small letters," George groaned, gripping his head.

"Sorry," I whispered in reply.

"I should be the one apologizing," said George quietly. "I was a right arse last night. You didn't deserve it."

"Yeah, what was up with that?" I inquired.

"I was just drunk and annoyed with that McQueen asshole putting his paws all over Alicia," he said awkwardly, leading me to believe he was lying. "I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you."

"It's alright, mate," I replied.

"No, no it's not," he insisted. "I feel like I've been a real prat since we got back to school, and I'm sorry. You've been nothing but understanding, and I've treated you like dirt. I mean, you even swallowed your pride and asked Alicia to come to Oliver's match just so I could go. I really appreciate that, Freddie, I mean it."

"Come off it, George, you don't have to apologize to me for being a prat," I said kindly. "Your my best friend. I'm used to your prat-ness by now."

George rolled his eyes, but pulled me into a hug. We separated when Fred released a groan and looked over at us. He rubbed his eyes and temples vigorously.

"Am I dead?" he asked hoarsely.

"If you are then so are we, mate," said George, smiling slightly.

"Maybe I should try breathing in a mirror," he suggested in a tone that was too serious to be a joke.

"Fine, just do it quietly," said George, massaging his forehead.

"Well, _quietly_ get your stuff together while your at it," I insisted. "It's after noon, and I'd like to get back and shower before I have to meet Cassandra."

"Ugh, fine," the reluctantly complied.

I went in to wake up the girls and received a similar response from them as I did the twins, but they were more inclined to get ready in a hurry. I didn't bother while we got ready and Alicia took our temporarily shrunk brooms from her purse. I knew he would have practice in the evening, and he would need to be on top of his game. We were prepared to depart in a remarkable ten minutes, making me rather proud of us all. Leaving the others by the hearth, I hurried back to bid Oliver farewell.

I pushed a misplaced hair from his eyes and kissed his cheek to wake him. His eyelids fluttered open, peering up at me.

"Are you leaving already?" he inquired dismally.

"Yeah, we need to get back," I frowned. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Come here," he said, extending his arm to pull me down to kiss his lips. He held my face before his momentarily.

"I love you, Winnie," he said sincerely. "I'll see you soon."

"I love you too," I smiled. "Bye."

–

We used Oliver's fireplace to return to Eaglehorn's Tavern and flew the rest of our way back to Hogwarts. We had flown directly into Gryffindor Tower, our room to be exact. We knew no one would forget to leave the window open for us to reenter if no one was there to forget. I climbed inside last, wondering why exactly everyone was still standing in a big group just inside the window ledge. I opened my mouth to inquire to why no one had budged, but with one quick glance before them I instantly knew why they remained stationary. Minerva McGonagall was standing in the doorway, looking menacing. She was slapping a rolled up newspaper in her hand, smacking it on the inside of her palm.

"Welcome back," she said sarcastically. "How was the match?"

"It was rather enter–"

"Mister Weasley, how is it that over all these years you have been unable to comprehend the meaning of a rhetorical question?" asked McGonagall, unamused.

"Sometimes his idiocies precede him," I smirked.

"Ah, Miss McKinnon, wonderful you should chime in," she seethed. "I saved this for you, maybe something for a scrapbook."

McGonagall extended her arm to hand my the paper she had been toying with. It was _The Daily Prophet_'s sports page, that included a photo of Oliver with his arm around me. The newest copy _Witch Weekly_ was below it displaying a decent sized picture of Oliver placing a sloppy kiss on my cheek after the match. I gaped at the articles, scanning them quickly. _The Prophet_ wasn't too bad, but _Witch Weekly_, the widely known female fan based news source was rather intrusive.

_Puddlemere's New Keeper Breaks Hearts_

_He may not be a household name yet, but Keeper Oliver Wood of Puddlemere United is far from hiding from the limelight. After playing an impressive match against Kenmore yesterday, we found our new heartthrob exiting from Grasmere Stadium with arm candy latched in tow. _

_Winnie McKinnon, Wood's supposed girlfriend is by no means a celebrity, but it is apparent that she has still managed to enchant the young Keeper. Will this relationship last, or will Puddlemere's female fans get their wish and have another handsome eligible bachelor on their favored team to challenge the ranks of Jasper McQueen? All this reporter can say is, "Only time will tell."_

I snorted a laugh at how idiotic the article was, but McGonagall wasn't as amused. Then, instantly, the smile faded from my face instantly. Molly read both of those newspapers. I was dead. Yep, I was done for.

"Anything you'd like to say in your defense?" asked McGonagall.

"Er– Oliver says 'Hi,'" I shrugged innocently.

–

_**A/N: **__So this was eh, but it turned out better than I thought. I have loads of trouble writing Winnie/Oliver for some reason. I think they're too sugary and blah. I love writing Winnie/George, so I really struggle with the other pairing in comparison. I hope the whole Ollie becoming a celebrity wasn't all weird, but he is a professional athlete and they receive that kind of attention. _

_**BTW: **__The only part of my songs and rhymes from this chapter were made by me except: "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here!" I know most of the crap I made up was lame, but I was reasonably proud of myself for at least attempting to make them sound Harry Potter-ish. I probably epically failed though._

_**PS: **__Shout outs will return next chapter, I promise for real. I just didn't have time today in the midst of packing etc. Please, forgive me. Help me reach 220 reviews and you'll get a quicker update :)_

_**Coming Soon: **__Karkaroff arrives, the gang is in deep trouble, Molly isn't happy, Cassandra tests Winnie's psychological strength, and the First Task makes Winnie uneasy, Alicia just adores Rita Skeeter, the Yule Ball makes everyone a bit crazy, hilarity, mischief, and chaos undoubtedly ensure..._

–

_**Review.**_


	8. Chapter 7: The Forgotten Memory

_**Chapter Seven**_

_The Forgotten Memory_

–

_The existence of forgetting has never  
been proved: We only know that some things  
don't come to mind when we want them. _

–

"Just when I think you three have hit rock bottom you go and dig yourselves a deeper hole," said McGonagall, glaring at the twins and I specifically though all five of us were seated across from her desk.

"Yeah, we've pretty much reached China," said Fred cheekily, earning a look so nasty from McGonagall that he made a sound as if he swallowed his tongue and lowered his gaze to his feet.

"You've even managed to drag two innocent bystanders into your mischief now as well," she snapped. "Have you no shame?"

Fred snorted a laugh at McGonagall calling Angelina "innocent" earning an elbow in his gut from her in return.

"I don't think we ever did," I smirked, looking sideways at the twins. They shook their heads and smiled in reply.

"I'm glad this is all so amusing to you," said McGonagall, her lips so tight that I could see the wrinkles forming before my eyes. "I hope it is still amusing after you're banned from Hogsmeade visits and spend your next six Saturdays in detention separately. Judging by your recent transgressions with your punishment from Professor Flitwick I think splitting the lot of you up will be much more efficient. All your parents have already been notified of your actions."

"Oh, come on, Professor," I groaned. "That's completely unfair."

"Is it, Miss McKinnon?" said McGonagall was an upward inflection. "I think _unfair_ would be Professor Dumbledore having to respond to several dozen letters from concerned parents who saw the articles and are understandably confused to how we run our institution."

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking down at my folded hands in my lap.

I guess it could have been worse. The twins and I knew ways to get to Hogsmeade without having to go through McGonagall, that was no problem. However, six detentions sounded like an eternity. We had really screwed up this time.

"Dismissed," she said quickly, "and I don't want to find out any of you so much as stepped a toe out of line or I'll make those six Saturday detentions six weeks instead. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Professor," we muttered, filing out of her office and looking dismal.

–

"I mean, honestly, it's not like we blew up a corridor," I said insistently. "Er– again."

"I know, at least we still had Hogsmeade visits then," said George, climbing through the portrait hole after me.

"I've never had a detention in my life," said Alicia, following George into the common room. "My squeaky clean record is ruined now."

"Get over it," said Fred, plopping down on the ancient sofa beside Angelina. "Don't you feel the slightest bit liberated?"

"I feel disgusting," said Alicia.

"Now you know how I feel whenever I look at you," I said, rolling my eyes.

I curled my legs up against my chest after sitting down on the tall armchair. Errol unsteadily flew in through the nearby open window and fluttered to a halt atop the small table beside me. He literally collapsed as he typically did after a long... well, _any_ journey.

"Errol!" I said, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak. I recognized the letter at once. It was a Howler, undoubtedly from Molly. I'd received more than one before.

"Oh, no—" the twins and I gasped in unison.

"It's all right, he's still alive," said Angelina, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

"It's not that — it's _that_."

I pointed at the red envelope.

"What's the matter?" asked Alicia.

"She's — she's sent a Howler," I said faintly.

"You'd better open it, Freddie," said George barely above a whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't. Remember when Mum sent me one two years back, and I ignored it and" — he gulped —"it was horrible."

Alicia looked from our petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" she asked.

But everyone's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Angelina urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes —"

I stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slid it open. Angie stuffed her fingers in her ears. A split second later, Alicia knew why. At first impression, many people just think for a moment that the letter hadexploded; a roar of sound filled the common room, shaking dust from the ceiling.

"WINIFRED ROSE MCKINNON!" Molly's voice shouted, causing me to cringe. "HOW DARE YOU ACT SO FOOLISHLY? ARTHUR IS ALREADY IN HOT WATER WITH THE MINISTRY OVER THE MEDIA, AND YOU GO AND THRUST YOURSELF RIGHT INTO THE SPOTLIGHT? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

Molly's yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the lamps rattle on the tables, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. Several people were now looking down the staircases to witness the Howler's wrath.

"—OH, AND DON'T THINK YOU TWO ARE GETTING OFF THE HOOK," shouted the envelope, turning to glare at the twins like Molly would have if she was there in the flesh. "I KNOW WHEN ONE OF YOU HAS GONE ASTRAY THAT ALL THREE OF YOU ARE INVOLVED!"

Fred and George sighed, rolling their eyes.

"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE THIS MORNING, I THOUGHT ARTHUR WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS."

I felt the worst about Arthur's situation. I wasn't thinking. Now I tried very hard to look as though I couldn't hear the voice that was making my eardrums throb.

"—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — ARTHUR'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF ANY OF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU ALL STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped, burst into flames and curled into ashes. The twins and I sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over us. A few people laughed from upstairs and, gradually, everyone returned to their rooms. I lifted Errol up off the table and laid him down in my lap, affectionately stroking his stomach as he snoozed. Alicia looked particularly horrified as she continued to stare at the destroyed envelope with her jaw hanging low.

"Well, that was a bit of an overreaction, don't you think?" I smirked, earning another jaw drop from Alicia.

–

Cassandra looked to be in a troubled mood which I decided to be due to some extraordinarily disturbing vision she'd had. She appeared determined, smiling wisely at me as I entered. I nodded at her, my hands in my pockets. Her dog, Leo, walked up and welcomed me by rubbing his head against my outer thigh. I petted his fur affectionately, I really liked her ruddy dog. I was a bit uneasy about this particular Sunday lesson because I didn't know what to expect after her description from the Sunday before. I'd tried clearing my mind before going to sleep, and I hadn't had any nightmares since then, so I hoped this wouldn't be too demanding of a session. I strode forward, clasping my hands together as if to signal I was raring to go.

"So what's on the agenda for to–"

"_LEGILIMENS_," Cassandra bellowed, pointing her wand directly at my forehead.

I felt as if someone was pushing their palm against my face. My back became rigid, my head jerked backwards as I instantly crumbled to my knees. The room began spinning as if I was about to be sucked through a tube of some sort. I gasped loudly, all the air pushed from my lungs as the room faded away and a new set of images appeared. I was caught off guard. I expected to be weened into this lesson not thrust head first into some cosmic hallucination... er– well, that's what it felt like at least. I didn't know where I was anymore. It was like I was watching my past happen as I stood by the sidelines like an innocent bystander.

_I was two and my Mum was dancing around madly to loud music in the background, clapping her hands and making funny faces and making me laugh. A tall, handsome redhead was holding me high in the air and spinning me around when I wasn't toddling around on the floor. I recognized him to be Gideon Prewett, he looked so much like the twins. How had I forgotten this? He brought me down to his hip, and my Mum leaned in and kissed his lips. I'd never seen her so happy, looking decades younger than she looked the night of her death. Then the vision began to fade._

_Wait! Come back!_

_I saw in the old tree house somewhere in the woods behind the Burrow with the twins. I was seven. Charlie was shouting at us to hurry and come down before Molly punished us for being late to dinner again. My foot slipped on the ladder, and I fell hard on the cold earth. A sickening crunch rang in my ears. I broke my ankle. Charlie carried me the whole way home. He kissed my cheek to make me feel better, and I blushed and giggled like a silly git, forgetting about the pain as he intended._

_Hold on. That was private!_

_I was nine, and I had the Dragon Pox. I was so sick that Molly cried, actually cried because she was so worried. I promised myself that I'd never let myself get sick or injured again because of how worried she looked. I broke that promise, but I tried, really I did. I never wanted to see her in such a state again._

_Get out of my head!_

_George was kissing me. I felt all the same emotions I felt when our lips first touched. It encompassed my whole body. I sort of liked reliving it, but I didn't like the idea of someone else experiencing my memory. I'd had enough._

"STOP!" I screamed, coming to from my hypnotic-like state. "Get out of my memory!"

I was on my hands and knees, gasping for breath. I was sweating profusely, my hair askew. I looked up and saw Cassandra standing over me with a pleased smile on her ancient face. She nodded approvingly and extended her wrinkled hand to help me up. I brushed her off and took to my feet with great difficulty, swaying from side to side and having to cling to the edge of a nearby desk. I rubbed the side of my head, groaning from the fresh headache I had gained from the abrupt shock to my mind.

"Where do you get off just blindsiding me like that?" I snapped. "I wasn't ready for–"

"Exactly," she smiled, unfazed by my rudeness. "You weren't ready for your mind to be penetrated, just as you weren't before and won't be in the future."

_Damn it. _

"Whatever," I muttered.

"You did better than even I anticipated," she smirked. "I'm quite proud of you, child. You truly are my blood."

"Fantastic," I sighed. "I'm not feeling well, obviously, can I go now."

"The mind never rests," she insisted. "_LEGILIMENS_!"

"Wait! I–"

I grabbed onto the desk this time, trying to hold myself steady. I almost fought off the infiltration completely, honest. However, I was too weak, and I collapsed to my knees again only to feel the same sucking sensation inside my head.

_I couldn't have been more than a bit after two. My Mum was pushing me and the twins on an old swing behind what I guessed to be his house, Gideon's arms wrapped around her slender waist. He was kissing her neck, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and causing her to laugh. Another gangly redhead could be seen jogging up from behind that was undoubtedly Fabian. He looked rather distraught, flaunting a letter in his hand._

"_She's marrying that barmy git?" he shouted. "This has to be some sick joke. Abby cannot seriously be engaged to Caradoc!"_

"_I see you got my letter, Fabian," my Mum smirked as Gideon released her. She halted our swinging to take us our of our seats and bring us inside with help from Gideon. Fabian was too upset to do anything but kiss the twins and I "Hello." My Mum set us down in front of a stack of building blocks. The three adults chatted on zealously in the kitchen._

"_You couldn't have expected her to wait around forever," said my Mum. "I mean, Merlin, Fay, she waited six years for you to pop the question. Doc's a great guy, and you know it. Be happy for her."_

"_Absolutely not," he snapped, "and you'd think she'd have the gall to tell me herself instead of hearing it from her sister."_

"_I was your best friend before I was your girlfriend's sister, remember?" she said quietly. "Obviously she still bears some feelings for you, and she couldn't bring herself to tell you herself. It would hurt her too much."_

"_That's mad," he insisted. "She broke up with me!"_

"_But you broke her heart," said my Mum sadly, extending her hand and placing it on his shoulder. _

_He didn't respond, choosing to look longingly out the window. George pulled my braided pigtail and brought me back to face him. I swatted his hand away, laughing and forgetting the adults were even home._

"ARGH!" I gasped, pulling myself from my own mind again. I stood up quicker this time with a fierce expression across my face.

"Oh, Winifred dear, you are doing so well," Cassandra beamed.

"How are you doing that?" I demanded, ignoring her praise. "How are you seeing memories I don't even remember myself?"

"It has been buried within your subconscious for so long," she explained. "Your mind has been begging to free them to your conscious. If you wish to keep them private then just prevent my penetration. _LEGILIMENS_!"

I stopped her this time, closed off my entire mind. I glared at her, making my mind a complete blank slate. She smiled after a minute of no success and walked forward, hugging me. My arms remained rigid at my sides as she cupped my face in her withered old hands, kissing either of my cheeks.

"I'm so proud," she grinned, rubbing her lipstick from my cheek with her thumb.

After half a dozen more attempts I'd been able to stop her infiltration of my mind four of the six times. I don't even remember the walk back to my room or whether or not Angelina spoke to me before I fell asleep. All I know is I had no trouble falling asleep with a blank mind that night.

–

I was unusually quiet the next morning, actually the entire day. No matter how hard the twins pressed me for information about my session last night I still remained silent. I really had no reason to be besides sheer exhaustion and just mild confusion. I kept quiet until dinner time when we arrived in the entrance hall, finding ourselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione stood just in front of us. The twins and Lee, the tallest of the seven, peered over the heads in front of us and read the sign aloud to the rest of us:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY –

"Brilliant!" said Angelina. "We have Transfiguration last thing on Fridays! McGonagall won't have time to lecture us after class again."

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

"That's so soon!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him…"

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," I replied. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as we pushed our way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione.

"No, he's a pretty big idiot," I smirked.

"Well, I've heard he's a really good student – and he's a prefect," said Hermione firmly.

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's handsome,"Ron teased.

"What a coincidence, Ron?" I smiled. "That's the very reason you're in love with Viktor Krum."

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly, ignoring my joke though Ron turned beet red.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!" I snickered along with Harry and the twins.

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following weeks, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where I went: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.

My sessions with Cassandra became more and more intense, though none of the memories she infiltrated were any I'd forgotten like they were during our first session. I'd been improving more and more after each week. In fact, after our most recent session I had successfully blocked nine of her ten attempts. She told me that she would give me the weekend of All Hallows Eve off to give my mind a break. I noticed everything seemed brighter after hearing that news.

I noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Filch was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Jordan, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Lee had accidentally transplanted his raccoon into a cactus rather than a pocket watch.

When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Once again, and most unusually to be honest, we had been sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Of course, it was about their blackmailing of Ludo Bagman again. He'd written back saying that our threats were ridiculous and we really didn't have anything on him. He also stated that he refused to meet with us, and basically told us to piss off. The twins suggested sending the official note that incriminated him, but I had my doubts.

"I'm telling you, it's not going to work," I insisted. "You can't honestly think you can–"

"You're making us sound like a pair of barmpots," said Fred.

"Good, my point has been well taken then," I smirked. "Only joking, I understand it's a bummer but–"

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the final letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione approached us, Ron led the way.

"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "You three thought any more about trying to enter?"

"Two," I corrected. "I refused to get involved with such idiocies."

"Good for you, Winnie," said Hermione as if I was refusing to get involved because it was against the rules rather than just thinking it was ridiculous.

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly, ignoring my side comment. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before…"

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

She noticed us all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."

"What are you on about?" said Ron.

"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

"How shockingly mundane," I pretended to yawn.

I shook my head and applied myself to my scrambled eggs along with the others. Our lack of enthusiasm had done nothing whatsoever to curb Hermione's determination to pursue justice for house-elves.

"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.

Some people, like me, had paid her ridiculous S.P.E.W. dues just to stop Hermione from glowering at them. Her club was moronic considering house-elves loved working. It would be like refusing a wizard from using magic if she got her way and created a sort of labor union for the big eared little devils. A few people did seem mildly interested in what she had to say, but were reluctant to take a more active role in campaigning. Many regarded the whole thing as a joke. Fred and George rolled their eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding us all in autumn sunlight, and Fred then became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?" he inquired gently.

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to–"

"Well, we have," said George, indicating me and Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world–"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. I looked up at once, and saw June soaring toward me. Hermione stopped talking abruptly; she and Ron watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily. I pulled what I knew to be another letter from Oliver from June's beak and unfolded it. It had been a week since I'd heard from him. I didn't know whether to be angry or worried.

_Winnie,_

_Sorry this is so tardy. I've been busy with matches and practice, you understand. I hope the arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons is as exciting as it sounds. Don't let Karkaroff ruin your good time. This is a great thing happening, enjoy it. Keep me updated on the goings on. Sorry this is so short, but I'm late for a press conference. Talk soon._

_Love,  
__Oliver_

Well, that was informative considering I had written him a novel to respond to with a couple sentences of nothingness. I rolled my eyes and stuffed the letter in my pocket, returning to my bacon in a suddenly unfortunate mood.

–

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. When the bell rang early, Fred, George, and I hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited our bags and books as we had been instructed, pulled on our cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Spinnet, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Alicia scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait. I smirked to myself and winked at Angelina who showed up behind me.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front… no pushing…"

We filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. I was standing between Fred and George in the sixth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

"Nearly six," said Lee, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates on the other side of Angelina who was beside Fred on his opposite side from me. "How d'you reckon they're coming?"

"No clue," I shrugged along with the others.

We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. I was starting to feel cold. I wished they'd hurry up. Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance. I could only imagine seeing the way Karkaroff appeared. I wondered if he'd just pop up from the bowls of hell or something. I shivered at the though of seeing. The idea had been swimming around in my head for a long time now. I used my detentions to ponder how I would exactly pose my question to him. I still had no idea how I'd do it.

"You cold?" asked George, most likely taking my abrupt trembling to be from the cold.

"I'm fine," I replied, my eyes straight ahead and determined.

He wrapped his arm around my arms and pulled me against his side, rubbing my arm up and down. Alicia leaned forward to send me a nasty look. I ignored her. And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers - "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled Lee, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick – or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks – was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid… it's a flying house!" said Fred loudly.

Fred's guess was closer… As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, we saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward us, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed – then, with an almighty crash, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then a shining, high-heeled black shoe could be seen emerging from the inside of the carriage – a shoe the size of a child's sled – followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman I'd had ever seen in my life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped, the loudest being Alicia.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the rest of us, following his lead, broke into applause too, many standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

About a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, about our my age, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. They were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

I swallowed hard.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses –"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong…"

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the lot of us parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then – "Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly. We all listened listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward us from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.

"The lake!" yelled Lee, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, we had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water – except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks – and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor… What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool.

"It's a mast!" said Angelina.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, a splash could be heard unmistakably from an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; it was easy to see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, and they seemed to be built along the lines of Derrick and Bole… but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, I saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair. I recognized those thick eyebrows, that thin face, and those unmistakable eyes... as black as coal.

I released an involuntary shudder. Without even looking over at me, the twins both laced their fingers with mine simultaneously, looking straight ahead at the large man with vengeance in their eyes. It was like having to identical body guards.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle it was obvious that he was still tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was now short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his still rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and I instantly noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, I caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. It was Viktor Krum. I thought Ron may faint.

As we all recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of our classmates heading for the Great Hall, I saw Lee jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. We walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were apparently unsure about where they should sit, and the students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Up at the staff table, Filch was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. I was surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.

"You doing alright, Freddie?" Fred whispered in my ear, wrapping his arm around my arms affectionately.

I faked a half smile, nodding and turned my gaze back on the staff table.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few people from Hogwarts laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"If you don't like it then get out, you barmy tosspot," I whispered, bristling at her.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and I saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation. The plates in front of us filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than any of us had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" said George, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Alicia.

"Bless you," I replied.

"It's French," said Alicia airily, "I had it on holiday summer. I can't believe you've never had such a delightful delicacy."

"I can't believe you're _still_ talking," I said snidely, stabbing the black pudding with my fork. She glared at me.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of our Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred. It made me uncomfortable for some reason, seeing such a color represent the school Karkaroff was headmaster of.

"Oh, bloody hell," I head George breathe shallowly. "If it isn't our old pal."

He was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" said Fred in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" I said. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

"Oh, Ludo, old sport, you've made a critical error showing your ugly mug at Hogwarts," said George coldly, staring murderously at Bagman.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. I even felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration, apparently Ludo's presence could wait for now.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" – there was a smattering of polite applause – "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. Fred and George's obnoxious boos could be heard above any cheer, however. He acknowledged his cheers with a jovial wave of his hand and kept one eye on the twins. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed our sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the onlookers.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. I rolled my eyes and pulled out my quill to write Oliver a hasty reply before I forgot instead of ogling like git as the rest of the general population proceeded to do.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. The twins looked at each other with giddy expressions.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" said Fred, his eyes glinting, as we all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing – it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"You don't stand a chance," I said wisely.

"Sod off, Win," said George jokingly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

"Bullocks," I muttered, patting my pockets. "I left my quill. I'll meet up with you later."

"Right," Fred nodded, still rambling on about their so-called brilliant scheme.

I jogged back to where we were sitting, spotting my quill instantly. All the Hogwarts students had departed as I reclaimed my quill and tucked it into my pocket. I darted back towards the door, thinking about whether or not I could catch up with the twins before they reached the common room. Just as I reached the doorway I froze. Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students and was leading them out. He stood rigid with his back against the door frame as he motioned for his students to head back to their ship.

"Back to the ship, then," he was saying. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

I saw Krum shake his head as he passed Karkaroff, pulling his furs back on. "Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy–"

Karkaroff carelessly glanced at me suddenly, just noticing my presence for the first time. And then he froze as I had. He turned his head back to me and stared at me as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up my face and fixed upon my eyes. I didn't blink, or breathe for that matter. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at me too. None of them knew why he was staring so eerily at me. I could hardly blame them.

"Winifred," he said so quietly I almost missed it. My eyes widened. He knew my name? Er– he remembered it?

I didn't have to nod. He knew without my response.

"Professor?" said a stodgy student from behind him. "Are you coming?"

Half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind him, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

And without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. I opened my mouth to say something, to ask him what I wanted to ask him, to yell, to do something, but I remained utterly silent. I didn't have the ability to move for about a minute after he left, opting to stare after the man who spared my life. I'd missed my opportunity, but I was certain I'd have more and the next time I wouldn't chicken out.

–

As the next day was Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late. However, when I went down into the entrance hall with Fred, George and Lee, I saw about twenty people milling around, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"I'm begging you to rethink this," I said dryly. "It's not going to work."

"Oh ye of little faith," said George in a melodious tone, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and looking up at the ceiling with a mesmerized look in his eye as if he could see the glory of being a Champion now. I swatted him away and laughed at the git.

Fred pulled a small vile from his pocket as well as George. The smiled at one another with their typical childish grins and dipped each of their pink fingers in the glass tube.

"Ready, Fred?" asked his twin.

"Ready, George?" he replied.

I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily as they both licked the drop of potion off their fingertips. They had a skip in their step as they jogged towards the goblet. I walked begrudgingly behind, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione as he reached the group of people by the goblet. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"Too bad you couldn't be a few months smarter," I muttered. "Not like any amount of time could increase your bloody IQ's."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored me.

"All set?" Fred said to the other George, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then – I'll go first–"

"Oh, this should be good," I said, rolling my eyes again.

The others watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley – Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second I reluctantly thought it had worked – George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred – but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. I gasped as they landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

I released an echoing snort before the entire entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards. I was laughing so hard my stomach ached with joyous pain. I strode over and helped them up, still giggling.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred, George and I set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter like me.

"I told you so!" I teased, jumping up and down, laughing like mad with no intention of stopping anytime soon. "Oh, how I told you so!"

–

_**A/N: **__Please, ignore the immense bit of the book I put in this chapter. I just couldn't find a way around it. Also, I've been extremely and unusually uninspired lately. I could not get myself through this chapter for some reason without a lot of help from the book. I'm just happy I didn't use any from the book last chapter to somewhat justify the book overload. Anyway, I hope to update soon, but no promises. I'm really busy since school is back in full swing again. Let's see... my life... I broke up with my boyfriend and am trying to date this new guy (he's amazing btw), I just moved in to a new apartment with my friend, I'm studying for the LSAT, looking for a new job, trying to keep up on homework, managing a few clubs, my Mom just had surgery (nothing major), and my friend just had her first baby. Needless to say, I'm swamped. Enough about me, I'm rambling...oh, I'll edit this later btw. I'm too tired right now._

_**PS:**__ Help me reach 250 reviews and I'll update in a snap... I'll try at least!_

_**PSS:**__ Don't forget to take my poll on my profile and check out my new trailers on YouTube for this fic (link on my page as well)._

_**Question for you: **__Are you still liking Winnie's character? I don't want her turning into a Mary Sue. Keep me grounded, people!_

_**Coming Soon: **__Alicia encounters Rita Skeeter, Winnie confronts Karkaroff, Oliver is acting strange..er– stranger, the Yule Ball brings a ton of drama but some joy, the First Task begins, Winnie begins to wonder whether or not her ability is really a bad thing after all, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**FANTABULOUS FRIDAY**_

–

_A SPECIAL THANK YOU AND GLAD YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS STORY TO:_

_**angel2, RatedRCouture, kmkm89, annie-elise, megera, wiatch, BellaCullen2312, Specksofdirt, Liberacorpus, booklover555, Liberacorpus, Kath the Dreamer, Mrz. HermioneJeanWeasley, Hufflepuff4ever, Dahila, MiaHammBailey, Harleyquincabaret, mmmgirl13, HadleyConlon**_

–

_**malpal:**__ I'm so glad you're getting into this fic. I'm loving the feedback! Thanks so much! Freddie and George will have some more intimate moments soon. Promise. I have to build up to somethings first... or maybe Oliver is her true love ;)_

_**JackRabbit:**__ All I will say to your comments is... "Wait for the Yule Ball." Shit will hit the fan of sorts... er– just wait and see. By the end of this sequel things will be heating up hardcore with everything. I swear. The end of sequel two into sequel three will be intense. Thanks for the feedback. I hope you stick with it ;)_

_**you me at six rocks my world:**__ I'm happy you love to hate Alicia! That's how I want people to see her... for now ;) Thanks for the review!_

_**Voldy's nose is a lie:**__ We shall see, love ;) Thanks for the review and suggestion :)_

_**tonidepp16:**__ After that review I know you're going to LOVE Rita Skeeter's interaction with Alicia and the shenanigans that accompany their idiocy. Get ready :) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Kumori Gem:**__ Seriously, do we share a mind? Ha! You're one of my favorite readers! Thanks for the feedback as always, love :)_

_**PurpleMonkeyDishwashers:**__ You flatter me, seriously! Thanks for being a loyal reader and reviewer! I appreciate it, lovie :)_

_**Jillian Mastrano 101: I**__ know I'm taking forever! I just want them to be believable. It's my number one goal. How about I promise you this... within the next 15 chapters I will bring them together ;) Ha! That's a long wait still. I know, I know... well, maybe Oliver is Winnie's true love anyway ;) Thanks for reviewing!_

_**Maddie Black: **__I'm going to have a sort of 3__rd__ person bit so everyone can feel George's pain of sorts in the Yule Ball chapter, no worries! I love Winnie and Ollie too, by the way. I think they compliment each other. I kind of wish I could recycle her character for an Oliver/OC where it actually revolves around him. Alas, I could never do that to Winnie. She is forever Fred and George's. In regard to pictures of Winnie... check out my YouTube link on my profile page. I have 3 trailers for this Saga on there that I made. Let me know what you think ;) Thanks for reviewing, lovie!_

–

_**Review.**_


	9. Chapter 8: The Oxygen Thief

_**Chapter Eight**_

_The Oxygen Thief_

–

_Enjoy when you can, and  
endure what you must._

–

Madame Pomphrey was not at all pleased when she saw the twins walk into the Hospital Wing with full grown white beards. She sighed heavily in disapproval and beckoned them to lie down just as she was finishing up with the other few, now beardless, age line victims. Lee plopped down on a chair in between the two beds as I found a seat at George's bedside. They were both fiddling with their new beards, causing me to smile at the sight.

"I kind of like them," I teased, tugging George's beard in jest. "They make you look distinguished."

"You know, Win, I was thinking the exact same thing," said Fred, twirling the tip of his beard, "but I think you meant to say _more_ distinguished."

Madame Pomphrey walked towards us, two mugs of smoking liquid in her hands. She extended her arms and passed on a mug to each twin. They simultaneously sniffed the potion, turning their noses up to it and gagging.

"Couldn't we just shave them off and be done with it?" asked George, holding the potion away from his face.

"Not unless you would like it to immediately grow back, Mr. Weasley, now tuck in," she insisted, forcing the mug back towards him.

They both reluctantly sipped their potion but instantly pursed their lips together and spat it back out as if they had just been shocked mid-gulp or something. Lee was out of the line of fire, but I was unfortunately hit with a full blast of smell potion via George's mouth. I froze in disgust, a look of horror on my face. I was just lucky it was clear or, I would have been covered in the revolting fluid. I let my wrists go limp and flicked away the liquid before accepting a clean towel to dry off with thanks to Madame Pomphrey.

"Er– sorry about that, Freddie," said George, fighting a lopsided grin. "Your face just has that effect on us."

"Lovely," I said dryly, pushing potion off my robes disdainfully.

"Really, gentlemen," Madame Pomphrey scolded. "It doesn't taste that bad."

"You try drinking it then," said Fred cheekily.

"I would if I was foolish enough to try to outwit an Age Line," she said quickly.

"No fair," said George. "You wouldn't need to, er– I mean–"

"Drink the potion, lie still for an hour, and wait for the hair to shed," she insisted, narrowing her eyes at George for his crude comment. "Then be on your way to do something morally constructive for once." She tightened her lips and walked back into her office, leaving us to ourselves. I snickered at George's prior sentiment.

"Georgie!" a high, squeaky voice interrupted from behind us.

It was Alicia sprinted in, slamming the door against the wall in the process. Angelina and Katie followed in after her in a much less dramatic fashion, choosing to stroll in casually, watching Alicia make a fool of herself. Alicia swooped into George's bedside so quickly that she quite literally knocked me on my rump. Alicia cupped George's bearded face in between her palms and proceeded to look him over as if to find some massive gash or something, placing kisses every so often on his cheeks. George looked through her however, sitting up at looking at me.

"You alright, Freddie?" he asked with concern.

"Fine," I replied begrudgingly as Angelina and Katie helped me to my feet by either arm.

"Oh, sorry, Winnie," said Alicia halfheartedly. "I was just so anxious to see if my baby was OK that I didn't even see you. You are alright, aren't you, sweetheart?"

"I'm perfectly fine," he smirked, gripping her wrists in his hands and bringing them back into her lap. He gently placed his palm on Alicia's cheek and smiled up at her as she leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. Something in my stomach suddenly hurt. Swallowing hard, I blinked a few times as if to shoo away the pain. I didn't even realize I had laid my palm on my stomach as if to rub away the pain in my abdomen. Angelina, who stood over Fred beside Katie, eyed me with concern in her expression.

"I was ever so worried when I found out you were in the Hospital Wing," she said dramatically as if he'd been sliced in half or something. Then she straightened her posture, a broad grin spreading across her face as though she'd just remembered something. "Oh, but you'll never guess what I was doing just before I found out about your incident!"

"Waxing your uni brow," I answered her rhetorical question.

"Er– no," she said, turning to face me momentarily before looking back to George. I noticed she self-consciously touched the space between her eyebrows for just a second, earning a victorious smile from me. "I was talking to Lavender, who heard from Pavarti, who heard from Susan Bones, who heard from Eloise Midgen–"

"Leesh, get to the point," said Katie, rolling her eyes.

"Right, well, you know how Eloise's dad writes for _The Daily Prophet_?" asked Alicia, George nodded though I knew he had had no idea prior to her telling him so. "Well, her dad told her in the utmost confidence that none other than _Rita Skeeter_ is coming to Hogwarts to cover the Tournament! _Thee _Rita Skeeter! I mean, she's a literary _LEGEND_! If I could manage to just get her to sign my diary I could die happy! Can you imagine if I had half as successful of a career as she has had!"

"Rita Skeeter?" I snorted. "How can you actually respect that woman? She's a nightmare. I mean, she falsifies any information that's thrown at her and ruins people's reputations without a second thought."

I shouldn't have been surprised. Rita Skeeter's writing tended to be sensationalist, and sometimes outright dishonest. Gossip and nastiness was right up Alicia's alley. It made sense. Alicia loved reading all sorts of gossip columns and nonsense like that. I guess I never really figured she'd want something to do with it. You know, be a writer with the questionably credibility of Rita Skeeter.

"I have to agree with Winnie," said George. "That woman wrote a scathing article about my own Dad, remember? You don't really want to be like her, do you?"

"That was just a silly typo, I'm sure," she insisted. "She's so talented and–"

I looked to Fred and motioned to Alicia as if to say: _Honestly,-how-is-he-still-with-her? _Angelina strode forward and took hold of my arm. She nodded towards the door.

"I'm going to turn in my name for the Goblet," said Angelina. "Want to come with me and Kates?"

"Yeah, anything to get away from this," I frowned, pointing my thumb at Alicia, who was still rambling about Rite Skeeter and arguing with George.

We waved goodbye to the twins and Lee (and Alicia I suppose) and headed for the Great Hall. Fred appeared as if he was going to cry when he realized he and Lee were left alone with George and Alicia in a small lovers quarrel. It wasn't long after Angelina, Katie and I had left the others when Angelina started in on me.

"I cannot believe I've been so blind," she started.

"Blind to what?" I asked, adjusting my necklace nonchalantly.

"To you and George of course," Katie chimed in gleefully.

"What about me and George?" I asked, still rather confused as I looked over at her.

"I can't believe I didn't see it before," said Angelina went on without acknowledging my question. "It's so blatantly obvious."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" I asked.

"You know..." Kates teased, winking at me.

"Know what...?" I said condescendingly.

"_You_ and _George_," said Katie as if I should know exactly what that meant. Then it clicked after staring blankly at her for a minute.

"Oh, no way," I objected, shaking my head. "I can not handle this nonsense from you two too."

"Us too?" said Katie with an upward inflection. "What does that mean, who else has confronted you about this?"

"Fred," I said simply, turning to Angelina. "Why are you were giving me grief, Ang? You knew the reason Alicia started hating me was because George fancied me. Why are you acting so surprised?"

"I didn't know you fancied him back though," she objected.

"Wait – What?" I demanded severely. "No, I don't."

"You so do," said Katie giddily. "How did we not see this before, Angie? Oh no, what about Oliver?"

She directed the question towards Angelina as if I was their puppet on a string or something.

"And people wonder why my best mates are boys," I said, rolling my eyes. "Oliver and I are fine. I haven't the slightest what you're trying to imply."

"I haven't seen your usual daily letters from–" started Kates.

"Because that's none of your ruddy business," I snapped, regretting my attitude immediately. I paused, gathering my thoughts before continuing again. "Sorry, it's just he's been busy lately... with matches and events, you know."

It was true that Oliver had been slightly distant lately. His letters had been less frequent and the length barely measured up to what his earlier ones entailed. But he was busy, very busy from what he'd mentioned in his brief letters. I wish Katie and Angelina wouldn't read too much into it. Oliver and I were perfectly happy, honestly. My confidence didn't transfer to the girls apparently, however, because they exchanged disbelieving looks and peered at me with pity as if I was oblivious to something.

"Look, all we're saying is they're is clearly something between you and George," said Angelina.

"And how is it so clear to you?" I asked.

"That look," she replied simply. "The look you gave George when he consoled Alicia. It was painful."

"First of all, there was no _look_," I said persistently. "Second off, you sound ridiculous. If this _look _really took place then you would still have no way of judging any sort of human emotion by a mere glance. It's barmy."

"It's not barmy," Angelina insisted. "You two have always sort of had something between the pair of you, something different than what you have with Fred."

"Can we please just change the subject?" I said in an annoyed tone.

"We most certainly cannot," said Angelina.

"Oh, of course we can't," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"All I'm saying is you and George would be good together," said Angelina. "I'm not saying you and Oliver aren't good together, but I'm just saying that I think you and George are... well, you're just Winnie and George."

"You sound like Fred," I frowned. "Figures."

"Well, Fred would be a better judge than anyone on what's best for the both of you," she replied.

"No, only George and I know what's best for us," I insisted. "He made his decision after we kissed–"

"You kissed him?" the two girls gasped in unison.

"Technically he kissed me," I said quietly. "It was the night of our birthday. We were drunk, and he... he just sort of kissed me out of no where."

"Did you kiss him back?" asked Katie.

"N– well, yes... I mean, sort of," I stammered. "I was still hiding my relationship with Oliver at the time... things were complicated."

"And they're not now?" Katie snorted. "George wasn't with Alicia then. Things could have worked then–"

"It isn't like I've never considered it," I interrupted, knowing I was in too deep to try to salvage my walls I'd put up, walls they'd broken down. "You know, considered being with George, but things would never work. He doesn't want to be with me anyway, really. When I confronted him after we kissed he asked me to forget it and act like it never happened. That hurt. It hurt worse than I ever expected and it scared me that it hurt that bad. I thought I loved Oliver and now I started having all these feelings, these intense, powerful feelings that only confused me. I know now who I'm meant to be with and that's Oliver. He makes me happy."

"George could make you just as happy," said Angie thoughtfully. "If you gave him the chance."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, "that's why I can never give him the chance, and with that I'm done talking about it."

If I gave him an opportunity to be with me I knew he could make me happy. That was the scariest thing about it. I was terrified that someone besides Oliver could make me happy. I didn't want George to have that power, but I knew he did. I knew if George and I ended up together by some freak act of fate that if we broke up then we'd never be able to repair our relationship no matter how strong our friendship was.

We arrived at the entrance hall an instant after my final sentiment. Angelina and Katie exchanged fretful glances, but I ignored them. I refused to attract anymore unnecessary attention when this was Angelina's day to shine. I wasn't about to steal any of her glory. She didn't speak when she placed the small piece of parchment with her name included in the Goblet of Fire. She smiled feebly afterwords and hugged her.

People began cheering out in the Great Hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. Katie and I followed after her, we ended up sitting beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Harry, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Ron.

"Do you see a beard, Ronald?" I smirked.

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina, laughing.

"What about you, Winnie?" asked Hermione anxiously. "Are you entering, as well?"

"She's not old enough," said Ron, answering for me. "Her birthday isn't until the first of May."

"I wouldn't want to enter anyway," I said. "I'm not one for the limelight, and I'd much prefer being Angelina's number one fan instead."

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Ron, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, that one veela-girl. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly. Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a queue. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"I really hope you're chosen, Ang," I smiled.

–

"Tell the twins I'll meet up with you all at dinner," I called to Angelina and Katie. "I'm just going to run up and collect June from the Owlry. I need to write back to Oliver."

I left the girls and found my way back up to the Owlry after coming across May and scooping her up in my arms just before jogging up the long staircase to find June. I didn't really have anything to say to Oliver, but I felt obligated to write him just because I felt like he would only respond if I gave him something to respond to first. I didn't understand what happened. Everything was so perfect when I went to see him in Grasmere, but it seemed like as soon as the season began that I took a backseat. I learned more about his goings-on from the _Prophet _rather than from any letter from him. Don't misunderstand, I am not one of those needy girlfriends. I'm not like Alicia. I like my space, but I also like knowing my significant other is you know, alive.

_Ollie-_

_I saw you lot won your match against Holyhead Harpies yesterday, congratulations. The Prophet said you played a brilliant match, I wish I could have been there. The Wimbourne Wasps seem like they may give you trouble next match, so good luck even though you don't need it. Anyway, I miss you loads and I can't wait for the next time we see each other._

_Love,  
__Winnie_

I finished my scribbles near the top of the spiral steps, folding it up in a proper square. I skipped the final steps, gripped the stone corner of the open doorway and spun around to dart inside.

"Oh, June Bug–" I sung, stopping abruptly when I realized I wasn't alone with the owls.

Igor Karkaroff was standing sideways to me in the small room, placing an envelope in a large barn owl I recognized to be one of the school's owls for general use. I froze, my words becoming locked in my throat.

"My apologies," he said without looking at me. "I was just returning a letter and–"

He finally turned to see who had infiltrated his privacy. He gave me the same blank expression as he did the night before, except he was completely speechless this time. There we stood, staring at each other with neither of us speaking or breathing for that matter. I had practiced exactly what I was going to say to this man, this murderer a thousand times, but for some reason my mind went numb and the words didn't come. Karkaroff finally cleared his throat and moved forward towards the exit. I acted swiftly, switching places with him as I gripped the sleeve of his heavy cloak. He looked down at me as if I frightened him.

"Young lady, please release me," he asked uneasily.

"You know my name," I said hoarsely. "You said it when you saw me last night. You know exactly who I am."

"You must be mistaken," he insisted. "You must think I'm someone else."

"I could never forget the face of the man who killed my family," I whispered.

He released an odd sort of gulping noise through his parted lips, swallowing hard afterwords. He gently pulled his arm away from my grasp and took an unsteady step backwards. I didn't falter for a moment. I took another step forward, keeping my eyes locked on his. May leapt from my arms, standing with her back arched and her black hair on end. She released a vicious hiss up at the tall Bulgarian. He eyed her in a similar fashion he had me. He looked almost surprised my twelve year old cat was still alive. May darted out the door behind Karkaroff and disappeared, leaving us alone with the owls.

"Have you nothing to say?" I breathed.

He blinked as if to break some trance he was in and looked at my eyes as if he was examining them rather than looking into them. Then he spoke.

"You have his eyes, you know?" he said calmly in his thick accent. "Benjy's I mean, your father. You may look like your mother in every other physical aspect, but your eyes... they are his."

"You knew my father?" I asked.

He merely nodded.

"How can you just stand there silently?" I snapped. "After what you did, after everything you destroyed, you owe me some answers."

"I owe you nothing," he spat. "Have you forgotten I saved your life?"

"Have you forgotten you killed my grandparents?" I seethed. "Do not canonize yourself just because you shut a bloody door over my head! Tell me why you didn't turn me over to Travers. Did you make a deal with my Dad, did–"

"He was my best friend," he interrupted.

"What?" I breathed. "You're lying."

"I am not," he said quickly. "I speak the truth."

"My Father would have never been friends with the likes of you," I replied.

"Well, he thought the same thing after I chose my er– allegiances," he said, clearing his throat and loosening his collar. "We were though, when we were young. He was the best friend I had ever– _will_ ever have."

"If he wrote you off then why did you let me live?" I asked. "If you weren't friends then why did you hide me?"

"Because I owed him," he admitted. "I was indebted to him. I should have paid him back long before then..."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means I owed him my life," he said, "because he saved mine."

"What?" I asked, more confused than ever.

"I guess I might as well start from the beginning," he sighed, sitting down on the ledge by the doorway.

"That would be a good starting point, yes," I snapped sarcastically. "Because believe me, I know how this story ends."

"Very well," he sighed again. "It started when we were children back in Bulgaria. We were neighbors in the outskirts of Nicopolis, beautiful countryside. He'd moved next door to me when he was five. His father was Bulgarian, but his mother was Irish, so after his mother's parents passed on his Mum agreed to move back to Nicopolis for her husband's sake.

Benjy and I became best mates instantly, our parents too. We went to Durmstrang together all the way through. I couldn't imagine a better friend. I was lucky, but I took him for granted. Ben moved back to Ireland after graduation, and as we grew older, into our late twenties and so on, we slowly began growing apart. We each had somewhat differing interests, I suppose one could say. Ben tried to ignore my transgressions, but after awhile it was impossible."

"But how did he save your life?" I interrupted.

"Hold on, child," he said. "You have your father's patience, I see."

"And apparently his distrust of you, as well," I sneered.

"I was running, running from a group of Aurors just outside of Dublin," Karkaroff continued, ignoring my sarcasm. "Your father was one of them, and your mother for that matter. I had a sizable lead, but your father had the speed unlike any other. He caught me half a mile ahead of the others. I was certain I was done for, but he spared me. He looked at me and said, 'Get out of here, Igor, leave Ireland and never come back.'"

"Promises aren't really your forte, eh?" I snapped. "You know, seeing as that's the last time we saw each other."

"No, I was ignorant, foolish even," he frowned, shaking his head. "I was obsessed with the power that the Dark Lord offered, but I was so wrong."

"Spare me your self-pity," I spat. "I'm not interested."

"I saved your life because it was too late to save your fathers," said Karkaroff. "I saved your life because he would have died to save you–"

"He would have died to save my Mum's life too, but you couldn't manage that, could you?" I hissed. "No, in fact you did quite the opposite!"

"I regret my transgressions," he said with no emotion in his voice.

"No, you regret letting me live," I shouted.

"No!" he argued loudly, taking to his feet and striding towards me with determination. "I _do not_ regret that. I would_ never_ regret that! A part of Ben lives on because of me!"

"No, I live because of my Mother," I shuddered, looking up at him with no fear in eyes, "who died because you are a spineless coward."

"Your mother's death was a tragedy, but there was nothing I could do," he replied coolly. "If I–"

"If you what?" I snapped, a frog growing in my throat. "Put your own neck on the line my Mum would still be alive? If you disobeyed You-Know-Who's request and didn't take innocent lives? If you what exactly? Please, enlighten me."

"You live because I did not obey the Dark Lord," he retorted, no more than a foot from me now.

"I live because of my Mum!" I bellowed again. "I live because my Mum loved me so much that she offered her own life in exchange for my own."

"I–"

"You, nothing!" I shouted. "Your very existence is a constant reminder that the wrong person died that day, that you breathe the oxygen stolen from my own Mother's lungs!"

"Travers killed your Mother," he said shallowly.

"And you just stood by and watched," I said with venom dripping from every syllable, a frog growing in my throat.

I ran after that. I dropped my letter to Oliver on the ground, forgetting what I even wrote, and just ran. I had no idea what had just happened. I'd let my emotions overtake the rational-thinking part of my brain. I had allowed myself to become weak. If there was anything I'd learned from Cassandra was that controlling my mind, my emotions was the only way to keep myself grounded, to stay strong. It wasn't how I wanted my conversation with Karkaroff to go, though I honestly didn't really know how I wanted it to go in the first place. I did know I didn't want to come off like a child in front of him, and I'd achieved the opposite in my opinion.

My legs took me to the Clock Tower, not my mind. I decided to stay there, secluded, until the feast in the evening. I would go to my room to be alone at that time, knowing everyone would be at the Great Hall. I'd be asleep by the time Angelina and Alicia came back, or at least be calm enough to pretend to be unconscious.

–

_The Great Hall was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred – clean-shaven again – seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well. Where was George?_

"_Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. Congratulations to Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, Viktor Krum of Durmstrang, and Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—" _

_But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. _

_The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment. What was happening? All three Champions had been chosen, did the bloody thing write sonnets too?_

_Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out – "Harry Potter." _

"Harry?" I gasped in shock, shooting up from my slumber. I didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing I remember was sneaking into my room after the girls left. I'd collapsed on my bed atop my covers, pulled my legs against my chest and gotten lost in my thoughts as I stared at the opposing wall. I guess I'd slipped into unconsciousness a few minutes later. I was sure I hadn't cleared my mind before falling asleep this time.

I re-pulled my legs upwards so I clutched my bent knees against my chest, hugging them tight. I added Harry's life being in danger to my list of worries. How could there be a fourth Champion? It wasn't possible. How could this have happened? However, I convinced myself for the moment being that this dream... or nightmare depending on the eye of the beholder was only a figment of my mind, not my usual vision. I couldn't concentrate on anything besides my confrontation with Karkaroff. I dug the side of my head deeper into my pillow, hugging my legs tighter against my chest.

"Winnie?" a familiar voice called from behind me.

I didn't need to roll over to identify the person entering my bedroom. I knew it was George. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. The riddle to where he was in my dream was now solved, which only lead me to believe it was indeed a vision and not a mere dream. I sighed heavily, still staring blankly at the wall.

"I regret suggesting you invent Sex Swapping Shoe Soles. They've been nothing but a nuisance to me," I groaned. "What are you doing here, George?"

"Fred and I have been looking for you for ages. We found your abandoned letter to Oliver in the Owlry, shipped it off for you by the way. We thought you'd been kidnapped or something," he replied, his footsteps growing nearer. "What are you doing here when the feast is starting?"

"Let's just say it's no fun when you already know who wins," I sighed.

"You saw the three Champions the Goblet is going to choose?" he inquired, feeling his weight as he sat behind me on my bed.

"Well, it's four actually," I replied. "There are apparently two Champions from Hogwarts instead of one like the other two schools. Our Champions are Cedric Diggory and Harry."

"Harry, Harry _Potter_? Can't be," George objected. "Is that what's got you all anti-social, this dream?"

"I wish that was all it was," I frowned.

"Then what is it, Freddie, what's wrong?" he asked gently, resting his hand on my other side so her could look down at me. I slowly met his eyes. I was going to tell him flat out, but something stopped me. I turned my attention back on the opposing wall.

"Just go to the feast, George," I muttered. "I'm sure Alicia is wondering where you are. I don't know how you even managed to sneak away from her in the first place –"

"I told her I had to go see Madam Pomphrey," I explained. "You know, my beard is still hurting."

"You don't have one anymore and a beard can't physically hurt to begin with," I said.

"Well, apparently she didn't notice those minor details," he smirked. "So tell me what's bothering you before I have to go buy more time by telling her my wing is broken, my horn is cracked, or my tail is crooked."

I snorted a half-laugh. It was hard not to. Fred and George always had the incredible ability to make me smile even if I felt absolutely terrible. It was a quality I was still working on for myself. Considering he had just cracked my formidable outer shell I decided he deserved an honest answer. I rolled my shoulder back to meet his concerned gaze.

"I spoke to Karkaroff," I said quietly.

"I take it things didn't go too well," he said sadly. "What exactly happened?"

"I ran into him when I went to the Owlry with intentions of mailing off my letter to Ollie," I sighed, rolling back over on my side away from George. "At first he wouldn't even acknowledge he knew me, but I did managed to get him to speak to me. He told me he was my Father's best friend, George. He saved me because my Father had saved his life before, and Karkaroff figured he owed him a life in exchange. I ended up starting a row, calling him a coward and blaming him for my Mum's death. I acted like an immature git, letting my emotions get the better of me. Then I ran off before he could get the last word like a child preparing for a tantrum."

"Well, Merlin, Winnie," said George in an exasperated tone. "Who in their right mind would snap on someone who murdered part of their family? I mean, I know the second I see Antonin Dolohov he's going to get a big hug from me. He killed my uncles, the man certainly deserves my affection."

"You know, sarcasm isn't _always_ the answer," I frowned.

"Oh, yes it is," he teased. "But in all seriousness, Win, it sounds like you reacted the way most people would. In fact, you probably behaved better because most people would have just killed him on sight for revenge which yours truly would have done as well."

"George..." I warned.

"I'm serious," he objected. "You can't get down on yourself. You're only human, and that means you have human emotions, though you do a reasonably good job at pretending you don't. I mean, we really need to work on you fixing your whole problem with not being able to cry. It's rather strange, you know."

"Not helping," I sighed. "I'm sick of you and Fred having to baby me lately. Ever since this ability started taking full force I've been this weakling. I hate it, and I hate myself like this."

"Merlin forbid you let your wall crack a bit," he said sardonically.

"Ugh, just go away," I frowned, readjusting myself on my side. "I want to be alone."

"People who say that never really mean it," he replied.

"Well, I'm not most people," I said.

"I'm not leaving you alone to sulk," he insisted. "I wouldn't be able to enjoy myself knowing you're here, miserable, anyhow. Now shove over."

I rolled my eyes and moved over a couple inches, knowing he was determined not to leave. He laid down on his side against me, reaching his arm over my waist and taking hold of my hand in his. He held my hand snugly in his and clutched it against my chest, nuzzling by me so his chin rested atop the top of my head. I fit like a glove beside him, I always had. It almost bothered me. We didn't speak, no words were needed. George and I never needed to use words to speak to one another. We knew each other too well for any verbal reassurance. Just knowing he was there, holding me, was the same as if he had given me a heartfelt speech. We sat there in utter silence for almost thirty minutes before either of us spoke again.

"I think you should go now, really," I emphasized. "Alicia will be furious if she finds out you came to see me."

"I don't care," he replied softly, his hot breath sending a tingling sensation down my spine. "You're more important."

"Don't do that," I objected, tilting my head at an angle so I could see him from the corner of my eye.

"What?" he asked roughly.

"Don't say things that make me feel like the other woman," I spat.

"You've never been the _other_ woman," he said honestly. "You are _the only_ woman."

I shot up off my bed, yanking myself free from George's grasp. He propped himself up on his left hand, eyeing my curiously. I could not deal with this, not now. I could not handle everything else on my mind and George's sudden confession. I needed to put a stop to this before it took on a life of its own. I waved my arms in front of me before pointing my index finger directly at George.

"Stop it," I said breathlessly. "Don't you dare say another word you're just going to regret."

"I won't regret it," he objected defiantly. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

He slowly took to his feet, standing entirely too close, looking down at me.

"Shut up! No, you don't," I insisted desperately. "Stop now, and we'll forget this ever happened."

"What never happened, exactly?" said Alicia, appearing in the doorway with the rest of the gang.

"George, losing 20 questions," I said dumbly, failing at the whole thinking on my toes thing. "Now, if you'll all please excuse me, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Winnie, don't go!" called George, reaching out to grab me but to no avail. "I'm sorry, wait!"

I didn't speak another word. I just ran. I ran down the stairs from Gryffindor Tower and across the Entrance Hall. I was out of breath, heaving before I finally collapsed just before I reached the kitchens. I fell onto my hands and knees and crawled into a nearby stone nook that was concealed by a set of long, heavy maroon drapes. I hid myself behind the drapes, resting my back up against the wall. I pulled my knees up against my chest and buried my face in between my knees. I was breathing heavily, aching to cry but no tears came as per usual. I looked up at the ceiling for a quick second as if to curse God. I lifted my hand upwards and covered my face with my fingers, closing my eyes.

This was just fantastic. I ran into Karkaroff, an accomplice to my family's murders and made an arse of myself. Then I had another vision because I was too weak to prevent it, and finally I caused an idiotic scene between myself and George. I was the biggest moron on the planet. I hit the side of my head in frustration before burying my face in between my knees again.

I heard Fred and Angelina's voices call out to me, but I remained silent, unseen though they were only feet from me. I tried to keep my breathing quiet, unnoticed. I took a sudden, deep intake of breath when I saw the heavy fabric move. I closed my eyes tight, sternly disappointed with being disturbed. However, I was pleasantly surprised when the source of the movement was just May, nuzzling herself up against me. I feebly smiled at her, scooping her up into my arms and holding her tight. It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours later, but I eventually fell into some trance sort of slumber whilst slouched over in seclusion.

"_They should have been back by now, Lily," said my Mum, holding me entirely too tight as she paced back and forth across the wooden floor in some house I didn't recognize. "Something's gone wrong."_

"_Marley, sit down," said a red-headed woman who was clutching a new born baby in her arms while she looked up at my Mum from the couch. "Winnie looks positively gray from all your pacing."_

_She had very distinct emerald eyes that I recognized instantly to be Harry's which meant the little baby in the woman's arms was none other than The Boy Who Lived. May was playfully rolling about on the floor, affectionately batting her paws up at the Potter's much older tabby cat. Finally, after a couple more back and forth paths, my Mum collapsed down onto the couch beside Harry's mum. My eyelids were heavy as she petted the top of my head gently. After a few more silent minutes she laid me down on the adjacent sofa, pulling a wool blanket that decorated the pale sofa atop me. I rolled onto my side so I could squint over at my Mum. She looked like a mess, her hair was much longer than it was the night she passed away. It was waist length, straight as an arrow as she anxiously ran her fingers through it every other minute after eyeing the opposing grandfather clock._

"_I feel it, Lil," she breathed, rubbing the locket around her neck that would soon become mine just as I do when I'm nervous. "I always know when Gid and Fay are in trouble, ever since we were kids I could always feel it."_

"_Don't say that," Lily hushed her, rocking Harry in her arms. "They're all fine. James will be home soon, you'll see."_

"_I should have gone," my Mum insisted. "If Fabian, Gid, and Sirius weren't so goddamn overprotective I'd be there right now."_

"_They care about you, and they care about Winnie, and her having a Mum around," she whispered. "Besides, it wasn't your shift."_

"_I know that, but I'm telling you–"_

"_And I'm telling you that you're being ridiculous," said Lily persistently, taking to her feet. "I'm putting Harry to bed and when I come back we'll share a cup of coffee and wait for the boys to come home."_

_An audible click could suddenly be heard from in front of the house._

"_Gid?" my Mum called hopefully, swiftly taking to her feet. _

_She took one abrupt step forward but stopped as if she hit a brick wall when the swinging wooden door revealed the arrivals. It was James Potter and Sirius Black. I opened my eyes wide and looked over at them, knowing I was at angle that made me unnoticed. They were both covered in what I instantly knew to be dried blood and soot. Sirius looked quite the opposite from his skeletal like demeanor in the present. He was strikingly handsome, hauntingly good-looking really. Harry really did look exactly like his dad, all but the eyes of course. Both men had disheveled heads of dark hair, gray powdering soot needed to be cleaned from it. Their exhausted faces told a story, one my Mum seemed to already know the ending to. The both shook their heads, their expressions sullen and distant._

_My Mum released a quiet, involuntary moan as she sloppily grabbed her open mouth just as her legs gave out. Sirius rushed forward, catching her before she fell. He took hold of her around the waist and hoisted her up into his arms. She put little effort into holding onto Sirius, merely clutching into his shirt as she sobbed, rubbing her forehead against Sirius's filthy shirt. He held her head against him, his fingers tangled in her lengthy locks. She slowly gathered the strength to wrap one arm over Sirius's shoulder as he kissed her forehead and whispered indistinguishable words in her ear._

"_James?" called Lily from just outside the room. She entered the opposite door and quickly embraced her husband before laying eyes on her two friends. Her hand shot up and clutched her mouth, knowing exactly what had happened._

_Sirius helped Marlene to the sofa where Lily replaced him as her source of comfort. Lily stroked her hair sweetly, wiping away her tears. Lily nodded towards me, motioning to Sirius. He instantly understood and walked towards me, scooping me up into his arms. He propped me up on his hip._

"_Hi Freddie, you're going to come stay the night at Uncle Padfoot's," he said tenderly, looking into my eyes and rubbing the back of my hair affectionately. _

_I didn't want to leave my Mum especially when she was crying. Gideon was gone. Fabian was gone. My Dad was gone. I didn't want a second away from my Mum when it was so obvious that time was the most precious thing on earth. I shook my head and as Sirius started for the door I reached out to my Mum. She saw what was happening and tried to stand and protest but Lily grabbed her arm as the swinging door slammed shut. I cried out to her over Sirius's shoulder, sobbing like the child I was._

"_Mummy!" I screamed just before Sirius apparated, bringing me with him._

"Miss McKinnon?" called a distant voice. "Miss McKinnon?"

My eyes shot open, sweat dripping down my cheeks. My chest rose and fell with great haste. Dumbledore had pulled back the shades and was now kneeling down to my level, a compassionate expression was obvious across his wrinkled face. I bet I must have been screaming. That was the only way he could have found me. I must have looked like a deer in front of headlights. May was gone, probably frightened of my state of hallucination.

"Come with me," he said gently, extending his hand for me to accept.

He helped me to my feet and assisted in holding my unsteady body upwards as he led me to his office where he plopped me down on the chair across from his desk.

"Any other relatives returning from the grave?" I asked sarcastically.

"Afraid not," he replied, ignoring my crudeness.

"I'm sorry I was out after hours, Professor," I frowned. "I've just been... er_**– **_dealing with things far beyond my maturity level."

"I see," Dumbledore nodded, taking his seat across from me and lacing his fingers atop his mahogany desk. "Cassandra has given you rave reviews on your progress with her, you know. Has something happened, Winifred? I'm rather certain you were just experiencing another vision, judging by your screams."

"I'm sorry," I muttered, realizing I was still trembling. "I thought I was getting better, controlling my mind and all. Then today I ran into Karkaroff and some other things distracted me from being able to concentrate."

"Cassandra has always emphasized the importance of a young Seer's environment, as you already know," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "If you are in an unfavorable environment then your powers go haywire. The more stress and disruption to your life, the more you will suffer these debilitating visions."

"I know," I nodded regretfully.

"So to avoid this from continuing I'm going to suggest something a bit unorthodox," he smiled slightly. "I have never allowed a student to leave the grounds for any reason other than a family emergency in all my years, but I'm going to make an exception considering these are extenuating circumstances."

"You mean you want me to leave?"

"I do not want you to leave, but I think it would be best if you took this weekend as a bit of a holiday to clear your mind," said the old wizard wisely. "I feel your condition will improve once you have forty-eight hours to relax."

"Where would I go?" I asked.

"Where do you want to go?" he replied.

I didn't have to think about my answer.

"London," I blurted out instinctively.

"To see Mr. Wood I am guessing," he said.

"Yes," I nodded.

"If that is the least stressful place you can think of then so be it," he smirked. "Get your things, you may use my fireplace."

I knew returning to my room would mean I'd have to face the others, face their questions. I swallowed hard and made eye contact with the elderly wizard, smiling fleetingly.

"I'm ready now," I said. "I'll just borrow some of Oliver's clothes to sleep in, and I'll wash the clothes I'm in."

"Very well," he nodded all-knowingly, standing and striding to the fireplace and lifting a small bucket of floo powder. I took some in my hand and looked up Dumbledore one final time. He read my mind. "I'll inform both Fred and George Weasley of your whereabouts, not to worry."

"Thank you, Sir," I said, climbing into the hearth.

"I'll expect you Monday morning," he said gently, " and just concentrate on clearing your mind, Miss McKinnon, for without a strong mind we are nothing."

I nodded, throwing the floo powder before my feet and calling out Oliver's address. Maybe the mind I'd lost was waiting for me in London.

–

_**A/N: **__I suck, seriously. I took forever to update. Thanks so much for being so patient with me. I adore you all, seriously. Thanks again! I've been super busy, and I don't know if that'll change. However, I will try to update soon if you help me reach those 300 reviews I'm hankering for=) _

_**PS:**__ Don't forget to take my poll on the fic._

_**SHOUT OUTS WILL RETURN NEXT CHAPTER=)**_

_**Coming Soon: **__Winnie is going coo coo bananas, will visiting Oliver will help clear her mind or just cause more turmoil? The First Task brings Charlie, George and Winnie have no idea where to go from here, Alicia's hatred grows and things are said that shouldn't be, a run in with McQueen brings some tough decisions to the table, Winnie begins to wonder whether she could use her ability for a force for good, and who is the girl going to the darn Yule Ball with already? Chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensure..._

–

_**Review.**_


	10. Chapter 9: The Seeker's Secret

_**Chapter Nine**_

_The Seeker's Secret_

–

_If you can't forgive and forget,  
pick one._

–

It was pitch-black in Oliver's flat when I appeared in his hearth, looking frazzled as all hell. I contemplated turning around and marching right back into the fireplace and going back to Hogwarts. I know I shouldn't have even allowed the thought to grace my mind, but part of me had an inkling that Oliver had been seeing someone else unbeknownst to be. Silly, I know. I crept from the dwindling green flames and tip-toed around the corner from the dark living room. It seemed completely dead inside, maybe Oliver wasn't even home. I hadn't even been considerate enough to write first. What if he wasn't even in town? Then I noticed a faint light coming from under the bathroom door in the hallway between his bedroom and the small extra bedroom. Thank Merlin, he was home. Smiling thankfully to myself, I knocked lightly on the door and turned the knob gently to peek inside.

"Oliver?" I called in a quiet voice, thoughtful not to frighten him with my presence.

However, it wasn't Oliver who was within the bathroom. Quite to the contrary, it was a tall, excessively tan woman with blonde hair and a chest that could not have been a gift from god but rather from a surgeon. Her face was painted up like a common street walker and she stood only in her underwear... if you could call it that. She turned around and saw me the same time I saw her. She screamed and I screamed in reply. Then lights started to turn on all around us. Though it wasn't Oliver who appeared from behind me. It was Jasper McQueen, stumbling to walk straight with his eyes hazed over from exhaustion. He wore only his boxer shorts and socks. He gripped the door frame, his jaw dropping when he saw me.

"Winnie, what–" he began, looking confused.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" I seethed.

He yawned nonchalantly and stretched his arms over his head. The blonde bimbo dashed back into Jasper's bedroom, attempting to hide what little shame she had left. Before I could say anything else she reappeared, clothes balled up up in her arms, and sprinted out the door and slammed it behind her.

"Write me," Jasper called, completely dispassionately, eyeing his fingernails before laying his eyes on me again."She won't write."

Suddenly, Oliver's door flew open. He was in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt, his hair handsomely askew. He looked as if he'd thrown on the t-shirt on before addressing the unknown situation, seeing as it was on inside out and backwards.

"What's going on?" he gasped, taking a second to realize I was actually there in person. "Winnie? What are you doing here? What's wrong, are y–"

I didn't let him finish, opting to leap into his arms instead. He hugged me back once he got over the initial shock of my body against his. He held his hand gently against the back of my head and lightly gripped my long unkempt hair in his fingers. He whispered quiet comforting words in my ear and tenderly kissed my cheek just as I had hoped he would. He knew something was wrong without my shedding an impossible tear or speaking a word, he just knew by my expression. Finally, Ollie led my face away from his and stared at me with concerned eyes. I opened my mouth slightly as if to say something, but only a few monosyllabic grunts came out. We'd forgotten Jasper was still in the same room, grinning slyly at us as he leaned against the door frame.

"Don't mind me," said McQueen. "I'll just go entertain myself, keep myself occupied and such. No worries."

"Jasper's flat is being remodeled, so I told him he could bunk here for the week," Ollie explained.

"Ah, well I'm glad you're here, McQueen," I smirked. "If you weren't and that woman was here alone with Oliver I think I'd be a bit more perturbed."

"Well, ole Ollie is still head over heels for you if that's what you're worried about," Jasper smiled. "Honestly, Win, your boyfriend is just about the most dull human being on the planet. He has girls crawling all over him, but all he wants to do is practice and swoon over you. It's adorable in rather pathetic sort of way."

"That does sound pathetic," I said in an amused sort of way, looking up at a blushing Oliver. "Fidelity _is_ rather drab."

"That's what I hear, though my idea of fidelity is never having more than one partner in bed at one time," Jasper smirked, "but I haven't asked what you're doing here. I take it you didn't write Ollie beforehand of your ever so graceful drop in because he doesn't exactly looked prepared?"

"I've just been very stressed out at school," I explained stiltedly. "I wanted to get away and see him for the remainder of the weekend as a sort of release."

"Well, I'm here and I would be more than willing to help you release and–"

"Shut up, Jasper," Oliver frowned, rolling his eyes. "Word of advice, McQueen, never try picking up a girl with a boyfriend just because you strike out with the girl you really want to shag."

"It worked on your friend Spinnet," he grinned as if he was remembering a fond memory. "Remember, Winnie, you turned me down at the pub and–"

"Oh, piss off," I said, turning my back to him and following Oliver towards the kitchen to get me a glass of water.

Jasper's expression changed as soon as he realized we were halfway down the hallway. He grabbed his knee-length maroon robe from the hook on the door inside his room and darted after me, a determined expression on his face.

"No, really," he objected, gripping the corner of the wall as he chased after me, sliding across the hardwood floor on his socks. Ollie pulled a glass from the cabinet above the stove and turned on the sink, filling up my glass and handing it to me.

"Alicia Spinnet is an obsessive bitch who couldn't physically look at another bloke because she can't function without keeping both her eyes glued on her own boyfriend," I said, turning back around and sipping my water with a self-satisfied look on my face.

"Well, she managed to look my way in the women's toilet at Paddy's the weekend you lot came to visit," he grinned deviously.

I froze, remembering that the pair of them had indeed disappeared when I went to see to George that night.

"You lie," I breathed, barely audible.

"I never lie about my conquests," he teased, "frankly because no fabrication of the truth could even come close to comparing to the real thing."

"But, she–"

"– is a minx?" he concluded. "I know."

"No, she has a boyfriend," I objected dumbly. "I mean, she's in love with George."

"I know, and how unfortunate it is that he is still in love with you," he smirked.

The glass in my hand slipped from my numb fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. I didn't even move. Oliver waved his wand and set the newly repaired glass on the counter top.

"You promised me you'd give that horseshit a rest, Jasper," Oliver growled. "You told me you were going to quit writing her."

"W-What?" I breathed, looking from one to the other. "You two write each other?"

He pulled a letter from his robe pocket, Alicia's large and frilly handwriting was easily recognized from my line of sight. He flicked the envelope with his opposing index finger to make a crisp sound and winked at me. Jasper wasn't trying to intimidate me or anything of the sort, I knew this. His angle was arrogance. He didn't like the idea of me doubting his tomcat persona.

"Of course," he shrugged. "I like to keep one lass on retainer at all times. You know, just in case I'm too tired to go out and find me a new one and apparently she's the same."

"So she writes you about me then?" I snapped. "What exactly does she tell you?"

"Not at liberty to say, I'm afraid," he smiled. "I can tell you that she's not too fond of you, however."

"I can hardly believe it," I said, rolling my eyes, "but what about George?"

"Come now, Win, would you turn down a professional Quidditch player for that pond scum?" he snorted. "Well, I guess that's a redundant question seeing as you have already faced such an inquiry and made the same decision."

"If you value your favored appendage I'd take back that insult," I sneered, gripping my wand and glaring up at the arrogant Seeker.

"You know, you and and Alicia really aren't so different when you think about it," he teased.

"Go back to bed, McQueen," Oliver warned. "You've had your fun."

So Alicia had cheated on George and still sort of was. I was fuming, livid. I would rip her hair out the next time I saw her. This was the very last thing I needed after the last 24 hours I had experienced. I gritted my teeth, narrowing my eyes at McQueen as Oliver pulled my hand away from my wand. Jasper playfully lifted up his hands to show he was defenseless and chuckled, muttering nonsense to himself as he headed for the spare bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

"You knew?" I snapped. "You knew all this time that he was writing Alicia, and you didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't my place to say anything," he replied.

"George is my friend–"

"– and Jasper's mine," he interrupted, not in the mood to deal with my attitude. "He may be a prat sometimes, but he's my teammate and has been nothing but a friend to me since I joined the team. I wasn't about to betray his trust–"

"– but you had no trouble betraying mine," I argued. "I'm so pleased to know where your allegiances lie."

"Listen, I'm not about to involve myself in this schoolyard theatrics," he said in an exasperated tone that drew me in to notice the dark circles under his eyes. "I didn't think _you_ of all people would ever lower yourself into participating in such rubbish."

"Do not chastise me," I snapped viciously.

"Then don't come into _my_ home throwing about false accusations of infidelity and degrading immorality," he seethed.

We were both breathing rather heavily and my hands were clenched in to balls so tight that I wondered how they weren't seeping blood.

"It was a mistake coming here," I muttered, pivoting fiercely and striding towards the fireplace. Oliver heaved a heavy sigh and extended his arm to grab onto mine, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Wait," he frowned, yanking me to meet his gaze. "You came here for a reason, and I doubt it was to start a fight with me. What's happened?"

_Truce._

"Dumbledore sent me," I said bluntly. Oliver's tired eyes instantly grew wide. If he wasn't interested before, he certainly was now.

"_Dumbledore_?"

"My visions are beginning to consume me," I explained. "He told me that I needed a change of environment for the weekend to clear my mind. When he asked me where I wanted to go I told him here."

"I thought your visions were getting better," he said with an upward inflection, leading me into the living area and helping me sit down on his sofa as he positioned himself in the maroon-colored armchair across from me. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and linking his fingers together.

"Yeah, so did I," I confessed. "Things were going so well with Cassandra, and I guess I just suffered a set back when I ran into Karkaroff."

"_Karkaroff_?" Oliver grunted distastefully. "You had a confrontation with him?"

I explained exactly what had happened between Karkaroff and I the previous afternoon, watching as his eyes grew ever wider after each nauseating detail. I then went into the specifics of my vision, feeling a bit uneasy as I retold the horrifyingly emotional scene. I had told Oliver about my abilities awhile ago, not long after I had arrived at him summer home. I felt obligated. If we were going to survive this relationship then we had to be honest with one another, and we kept up our ends of the bargain thus far. He was extremely supportive about my abilities after I told him, making jokes about me using my power to foresee some of his future Quidditch matches, though I sort of think he was serious.

"The bastard," he grumbled, "taking some sick level of credit for your existence, did he? It's no wonder you had an episode after such a traumatic experience."

"Yeah..." I replied quietly, knowing my incident with George may have added to my distress though I knew to leave that bit out.

"Win, I've got a question for you," said Oliver tentatively.

"What's that?"

"Why exactly don't you... you know, want to be a Seer?" he asked shyly.

"Because I just want to live my life," I said simply. "I don't want this power. I don't want to know the future. I have enough trouble living my life in the present as it is, and I don't need any other tense to interfere."

"But... you do realize how rare this ability is, right?" he asked. "I mean, there hasn't been a Seer born since your great-grandmother, and who knows when the next one will be... or if another one is born at all. You could be the last Seer in our world, Win. Does that mean nothing?"

"It's easy to preach when it's not happening to you," I replied.

"Think of all the good you can do," he insisted.

"Yes, and once everyone finds out then I'll be pressed to be some moronic fortune teller," I snapped. "I can see it now, hundreds of people harping at me to tell the futures. I'm not doing that."

"But you would have the power to change the future, Win," he went on. "Think of all the lives you could save, and besides, who's making you go public about it? I bet you'd have been begging for this ability thirteen years ago. You could have prevented that massacre, and you have a second chance now."

"I– It's not that simple," I frowned, shaking my head at the thought.

"Isn't it?" he said with an upward inflection, gauging my reaction before continuing. "Why don't you just give it a go? Try things Cassandra's way for the remainder of the term and then decide what you want to do. Right now, you're only seeing one side of your powers. Come on, Winnie, do it for me if you won't do it for yourself."

"I'll think about it," I sighed. "That's all I'm promising."

"And that's all I'm asking," he smiled, pleased with himself. "Now, let's get you to sleep. You look like you can use it."

"So could you," I said as Oliver took my hand and led me into his bedroom. "You've been ignoring my letters, and I've been worried about you, about us."

"I've had more than a full plate lately, and I'm sorry for neglecting you," he explained sadly, closing the door behind us. "I just got an assistant, however, so I hope that makes me more available."

"An assistant?"

"Yeah, you met her," he went on, pulling back the covers on his bed for the both of us. "She stayed over with Jasper tonight."

My stomach lurched at the thought.

"Only joking," he laughed. "_Mrs._ Mary Cattermole is nearly forty and quite married with three children."

"Remind me to tune up your comedic timing," I yawned, curling up beside Oliver and closing my eyes, praying that I could manage a good night's sleep.

–

I would have liked to be able to say that Oliver and I shared some sort of vastly romantic weekend together, including roses and wine, but that couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, I barely saw Oliver my remaining hours spent in his flat. I instead spent my time sleeping and sleeping, and oh yeah, sleeping. Dumbledore had been right, a change of environment had done me a world of good. My eyes didn't ache with the same exhaustion and pain as mind, and I felt as if I could breathe again. I was sad to have to go back to Hogwarts, where a thick musk of fear and uncertainty had began to call home when I was around.

I returned just moments before sunrise on Monday morning, Dumbledore had left his staircase adjacent for me to return when I pleased. He was snoozing upstairs in his bed, and I was careful not to wake him. I'd received two nights of dreamless sleep that I needed ever so desperately, and I was feeling much better though I didn't exactly know how I would be greeted by the others. I'd pushed the eventual confrontation with George out of my mind and tried my hardest to clear my mind of uneasy thoughts.

I tiptoed into the common room, hoping to sneak into my bedroom and change for the day with the intention of hiding up in the Owlry with June for the few hours before Transfiguation. The common room was dimly lit, the night sky visibly turning purple outside the adjacent window. I snuck up the girls' staircase and carefully opened the door to my shared bedroom. I shouldn't have been surprised, I really shouldn't have, Alicia was always up before sunrise. I don't know what I was thinking when I imagined being the only awake patron in our dormitory. I guess I just wasn't. Alicia was admiring her reflection in her armoire mirror when I entered, pinching her cheeks and tilting her face from side to side. I gritted my teeth and stood frozen just steps inside the doorway. I wanted to shout at her, cause an obnoxious row, but once I laid eyes on the still snoozing Angelina I knew I had more respect for her than that. Alicia saw me in the reflection of her mirror and slowly turned about to face me with the same nasty expression I was sending her.

"Ah, Winnie, I was wondering when you'd make your dramatic return," she said in a tone that would have sounded almost murderous if she wasn't speaking in a whisper to avoid waking Angelina.

"Oh, I'm sure you were," I seethed, taking a step forward without an inkling of hesitation. "I bet you've been plotting out what you wanted to say to me all weekend. Well, let's have it then. I'll get you started... 'Winnie, George and I are in love and–"

"You need to need to keep away from him," she threatened, obviously in no mood for my sadistic humor.

"You're mad," I replied. "He's my best friend, and I live with him for Merlin's sake."

"It's not his fault his Mum and Dad had a soft spot for strays," she hissed. "He wouldn't give you a second thought if your parents hadn't croaked and dumped you off on their doorstep like some poor, pathetic mangy mutt."

"Excuse me?" I breathed, feeling as if I had been struck with a mack truck.

"But let's address your current situation instead of the past, shall we? I wager you've gone to see your ickle boyfriend?" she smirked wickedly. "Have you finally realized he's shagging loads of women far more attractive and intelligent than you?"

"No, but I did see_ yours_ doing just that," I smiled devilishly, fighting the giant frog that was crawling up into my throat.

"What are you going on about?" asked Alicia, striding towards me defensively. "George was with me all weekend."

"Oh, so sorry, I should have been more specific," I said, mocking her. "I was referring to your_ other_ boyfriend."

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, because after the other night I now realize there are at least two," I sneered.

She stared blankly at me.

"Give it a rest, Leesh," I said in an exasperated tone. "McQueen told me everything."

She didn't open her mouth, blink, anything. I watched her throat expand and contract, she was swallowing her next words. I smiled wickedly, retaining the upper hand in this little argument. She finally took a step backwards, her jaw rigid. When she jerked her attention back towards me I barely recognized her anymore. Her eyes were full of such fury, such vengeance that I almost fell backwards. She appeared inhuman.

"Well, it looks like you've finally got your wish," she seethed. "Looks like you've finally gotten both of the men you love all to yourself. Such a success story for a poor little orphan, once a lonely mutt adopted up from the gutter, desiring to be loved above all else, doing anything to get it. I can only imagine that's why you've got so much trouble managing the opposite sex. I would toke it up to you having daddy issues, but you never had one to begin with."

"How dare you?" I breathed, feeling as if the wind had just been knocked out of me again. "We're talking about your relationship with George, this has nothing to do with me!"

"Oh, it has everything to do with you, are you really too thick to see it?" she snapped, waiting for me to reply, when I didn't she went on. "It is impossible to have a normal relationship with either twin when you're around."

"That's ludicrous," I scoffed.

"No, it isn't and deep down you know I'm right," she spat. "You will always come first in the twins' eyes, no matter what, you will always be their number one girl."

"That's a lie," I hissed. "Fred and Angelina have a perfectly healthy relationship."

"And you can honestly say that if it came down between to two of you that he wouldn't choose your friendship over his romance with Angelina every time?"

"He loves Angelina," I insisted.

"His feelings for her don't hold a candle to the platonic love he has for you," she said.

I didn't respond.

"Face it, you're the one thing standing in the way between them and happy relationships," she smiled, knowing she was getting to me. "Subconsciously you know you can't bare the thought of either of them being happy with anyone but you. You know you're their virtual girlfriend, and you never want that to change. You're so used to how things have been over the years that the idea of taking a backseat to another girl kills you, doesn't it?"

I merely blinked.

"Ah, no witty comeback?" she smirked, striding forward and circling me like a lioness stalking her prey. This was the opposite of how I imagined this conversation to go. I was going to regain the upper hand, now. I whipped around, turning as she circled me to avoid losing her gaze. My face returned to its forceful expression.

"Oh, I have dozens, though none worthy of your ignorance," I hissed. "You think you can manipulate me, Alicia, penetrate my mind. Believe me, babes, I've battled far worse than you in that department. If you believe for one bloody moment that you can make me second guess what I have with the twins then you're even dumber than I thought."

"I would never do such a thing," she teased viciously, holding her open palm upon her chest as if she was offended at the thought. "Go ahead and spill the beans to George about my relationship with Jasper. He'd only resent you for it, if he even believed you at all."

"George is my best friend–"

"Exactly," she smirked. "Those we love we treat the worst–"

"Then I'm head over heels for you," I sneered.

"As I was saying," she said coolly, emphasizing each syllable. "He already thinks you poke your nose in our business far too much, trying to sabotage our relationship and such. What makes you believe he wouldn't think you were doing just that, trying to tear us apart?"

"He'd believe me," I insisted.

"Fine, let's say he does," she shrugged. "Haven't you ever heard the expression, 'Shoot the messenger?' Even if he did believe you, he'd still resent you. There you'd be in your perfect little relationship with your perfect little boyfriend, happy as can be. You honestly don't think he'd secretly blame you, loathe you for rubbing your relationship in his face after you were the reason he's all alone again."

"You'd be the reason, not me," I said.

"He wouldn't see it that way," she went on. "Sure, he'd be furious with me, hate me even, but he'd blame you for the hate he'd feel. After awhile he'd even start to wish that you'd never told him the truth, wished you'd protected him from the pain instead, preferred that you'd lied to spare him the shame and sorrow. He'd hate you for being able to look him in the eye and tell him with no sign of remorse, 'I told you so.'"

"I would never say that," I breathed.

"But you could if you ever wanted to," she smiled. "That would be all that mattered."

"All that matters to me is George's happiness," I said flatly. "I would do anything for him."

"Of course you would," she smiled wickedly.

She walked by me and bumped my shoulder with purposeful force as she paused for a moment before turning back and smiling victoriously at me.

"Mutts are always loyal to their masters," she grinned.

Then she descended the stairs, leaving me in stunned silence.

–

"I can't believe she would do that to George," said Angelina, "but what really boils my blood is what she said to you, what she called you. I mean, Merlin, I would have thought you would have slugged her."

"I know, I think I was just too shocked to move," I sighed, "but keep it to yourself. You promised, especially not Fred and George."

"I promise," she replied reluctantly, rolling her eyes.

Angelina was the only one I told about my confrontation with Alicia, and I intended to keep it that way. I wasn't one for spreading rumors, so this incident would stay strictly between the two of us... well, and Alicia. Angelina and I walked along the curving corridors, opting to leave earlier for class and skipping breakfast to stroll the grounds and talk. I wanted to tell her about what I was going through, my abilities and such, but I knew too many people knew already. The only people who knew about my powers were the twins, Dumbledore, Cassandra, Ginny, Molls and Arthur... well, and Percy was up in the air. If he did know then he was keeping that information to himself, and considering pointless information was constantly pouring from his big gob I could take a safe guess that he had forgotten about my situation all together. I'd make my way through the Weasley family eventually, telling them one by one. I'd planned it all out in my head. I'd tell Charlie then Bill and Ron last because he couldn't keep a secret if his bleeding life depended on it. My powers were the last thing on my mind at the moment, however.

"Well, she'll get what she has coming," said Angie with confidence in her eyes. "When are you going to tell George about her and McQueen?"

"I'm not," I replied simply, keeping my eyes forward towards the long hall of classrooms.

Angelina stopped dead in her tracks with her jaw slacked as I continued forward on my beaten path.

"What?" she finally managed to choke out, finally running to catch up with me again. "What do you mean you're not going to tell him?"

"I don't know how I can make that statement any clearer," I said indifferently. "I'm just not going to tell him."

"Have you lost your mind?" Angie exclaimed. "I mean, I can hardly understand why you want to keep her insults to yourself, and now... I mean... Winnie... George deserves to know the truth."

"He deserves to be happy," I said quietly, "and I'm not going to interfere with that anymore."

"It's Alicia who interfered with his happiness the moment she and McQueen, you know..." she said awkwardly, looking around for any eavesdroppers. "You did nothing."

"He'd be devastated if he knew Alicia had cheated on him," I went on, unable to make eye contact with Angelina for some reason. "He'd be broken for more than one reason."

"What's gotten into you?" asked Angelina suddenly. "This isn't you at all."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been all secretive, sneaking off more than when you and Oliver were dating," she said. "You barely speak to anyone anymore, you look like you haven't slept in ages, and now you're letting Alicia Spinnet one up you! What's going on with you?"

"It's nothing," I sighed, wishing wholeheartedly that I could tell her about my power. "Just trust me, Angie, things are just easier this way."

"For whom exactly?" she snorted. "The only person I think this little plan to keep your mouth shut is helping is Alicia."

"I'm not asking you to agree," I said hastily. "I'm just asking you to trust me."

I became suddenly distracted as I caught a glimpse of Montague, Flint, and Bole and for one wild moment I thought they were wearing S.P.E.W. badges – then I saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY—THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

I must have been looking at the badges longer than I rightfully should because Graham noticed my attention and sent me a disgusting wink that caused me to abruptly turn my head away. He smiled slyly and nudged Flint who laughed as well, then he winked at me, licking his lips.

"Graham, are you developing a tick?" I sneered.

"No, that was wink," he replied dumbly.

"Oh, then you're developing into a tick," I replied, turning away from them without another word.

Angelina wasn't amused my my loss of attention to our conversation so she raised her voice to respond to my previous statement.

"Fine, whatever," she sighed, pretending I hadn't addressed the group of gargoyles, "but I'm letting you know that if I hear Alicia make one more crude remark towards you then I'm stomping right up to Fred and telling him exactly what she said to you. I don't care if you hate me for it."

"Fine," I frowned. I would just have to make sure that even if and when Alicia made an insulting remark that Angelina wouldn't hear about it. "Now come on, who knows what McGonagall would do with us if we're late. Something tells me she's begun to consider unconventional means of punishments since her usual disciplinary tactics have become less effective than usual."

–

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, who were usually on excellent terms with us Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of us since Harry had won the spot as forth champion. The Ravenclaws had apparently taken the side of the Hufflepuffs, who all felt somewhat cheated when Cedric turned out to be not be the only Hogwarts champion after all. I really could understand the Hufflepuffs' attitude, even if it wasn't pleasant; they had their own champion to support. Everyone beside the Gryffindors seemed to think that he had been desperate to earn himself a bit more fame by tricking the goblet into accepting his name. Part of me was selfishly thankful for Harry's unwanted attention because everyone was so obsessed with him that my abrupt disappearance wasn't even a bleep on the rumor radar.

Angelina had also informed me that Ron wasn't talking to Harry a at all amidst all of this. Hermione had been forced to sit between them, making very forced conversation, but though both answered her normally, they avoided making eye contact with each other. I partly couldn't wait to see how comically and moronically tense things were between the two blokes.

The Slytherins sat with smugger expressions on their faces than usual, peering over at each individual Gryffindor with a look of sheer distaste as we walked by. Adrian Pucey, he sent us a weak, fleeting smile beside a clueless Warrington. Since he and Katie had been seeing each other or whatever they were doing, he'd been much more pleasant to our group of friends. Angie and I separated so she could reluctantly take her regular seat beside Alicia and I beside George, who appeared deep in mock concentration as he stared down at his homework. I sat my books down and tentatively slid into my seat beside him.

"Hey," I said faintly, smiling slightly.

George looked over at me like he hadn't noticed me standing there before. He sent me the same sort of smile I'd sent him as he closed his book that he hadn't really been reading to begin with.

"Hey," he said softly. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine," I shrugged, scooting in my chair. "I just caught up on sleep. I don't think I was conscious for more than an hour the entire time."

"That's good," he said.

This conversation started awkward and was only progressing in that direction at a rapid speed. I needed to end the tension and fast.

"Listen, George–"

"Winnie, I'm–" George said at the same time I did. "Oh, sorry, go ahead."

"No, after you," I said politely.

"I was just going to apologize," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have put you into such an uncomfortable position when you were in such a delicate state. I'm sorry for trying to take advantage of you."

"I am too," I said. "If I've been sending you mixed signals then I apologize. I've just been really... crazy lately... oh, and you couldn't take advantage of me if you tried. No worries, mate."

"Fresh start?"

"Fresh start," I nodded.

Fred and Lee turned around and joined George and I in boisterous conversation about Harry being chosen. They caught me up on all of the gritty details of inter-house relations that Angie had left out until McGonagall finally showed up and started class. I sat through the beginning of class in silence for once, debating my decision to not tell George about Alicia. I wanted he and Fred to just be happy no matter who it was that accomplished such a feat. However, my mood slowly managed to brighten after each passing moment and by the end of class I was back to my usual self.

"McKinnon! Weasleys! Jordan! Will you pay attention?"

Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class, and the twins, Lee and I all jumped and looked up.

It was the end of the lesson; we had finished our work; the guinea fowl we had been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk (Montague's still had feathers); we had copied down our homework from the blackboard ("Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"}.

The bell was due to ring at any moment, and the four of us, who had been having a sword fight with a couple of our fake wands at the back of the class, looked up, me holding a tin parrot, Fred with a plastic bouquet of flowers, Lee a pinwheel, and George, a rubber haddock.

"Now that you three have been kind enough to act your age," said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the three of us as the head of George's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor – my parrot's beak had severed it moments before – "I have something to say to you all."

"The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish–"

Alicia let out a shrill giggle. Angelina nudged her hard in the ribs. Alicia looked around at George with a giddy smile which he replied with an awkward grin, Professor McGonagall ignored her, which was distinctly unfair, as she had just told us off not a moment before.

"Dress robes will be worn for the boys and dresses for the girls," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then–"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class. I expected this after seeing the gown I Hermione had picked up for me with Molly and Ginny. I also had decided I wouldn't even bother asking Oliver or asking McGonagall if he could attend even though he graduated. It wasn't worth it. I'd just go alone and try to have as good of a time as any. I was far from excited about having to dress up like a git and parade around in heels all night.

"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to – er – let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.

Alicia giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound. Though I could see what was funny this time: Professor McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her hair down in any sense.

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way. That especially applies to you three."

McGonagall looked at the twins and I, narrowing her glare and pointing her finger directly in our direction. Our faces illuminated in devious grins. The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

Graham Montague called above the noise, "McKinnon– wait up a minute!"

"Piss off, Graham," I said indifferently, not looking up from my messenger bag that I was stuffing full. The twins informed me they'd be waiting for me down the hall just a second before he stomped over to my desk, slinging his books, held together by a leather belt, over his shoulder.

"Aw, come now, Winnie," he said in a fake offended voice. "I've always been nothing but nice to you, and when I merely ask for a minute of your time–"

"Where is the chase and how do I cut to it, Montague?" I frowned, still focusing on collecting my things. "You're boring me with your delusions again."

"I came to ask who you plan on going to the ball with," he said confidently.

"No one, and that especially includes you," I replied curtly.

"Why won't you go with me, McKinnon?" he asked in a baby voice that made him sound more pathetic than her already was which had seemed impossible until now.

"Well, I have a boyfriend for one," I snapped, whipping my shoulder strap over my head as I stepped swiftly towards the door. "Then there is that whole me loathing every fiber of your being thing."

"Come on, you don't want to be seen going to the ball alone," he insisted, trailing after me. "A boy going alone is one thing, but a girl..."

"_I have a boyfriend_," I sneered, exiting the door. "Have you forgotten how to speak English again? I'm going to _choose_ to go alone because my _boyfriend_ has graduated and is therefore unable to escort me. Go ask Millicent Bulstrode, I wager she'd go with you even though she's a bit out of your league."

"At least save me a dance," he objected, darting after me down the hall.

"Absolutely not," I spat, keeping my eyes forward.

"I'm only trying to do what ole McGonagall said," he argued as I walked as a quicker pace. "You know, socialize! You're the one being anti-social."

"I'm not anti-social," I growled. "I just can't stand you."

"Come on–"

"Is there a problem?" asked George with his arms crossed over his chest, stepping forward beside Fred and Lee to stop Montague from following me.

"No problem, Weasel," said Graham wickedly, gritting his teeth. "Just confirming plans with McKinnon, here, for the ball."

"Alright, so let's confirm," I spat, pivoting on my heel to make eye-contact with him for the first time. "I'm not going to the ball with you, confirmed. You will end up going with some dodgy Slytherin hag, confirmed. You're a putrescent mass of walking vomit, confirmed. Is that all? Yep, I think we're done here."

–

I carefully released a small drop of potion onto a tiny clear tack. The twins and I had been tediously trying to perfect our newest invention with no avail. It was a clever little endeavor, I must admit. If we finally managed to get the bloody thing to work properly then this little clip of nearly invisible plastic would allow the buyer to track whomever they chose to stick the device upon by watching them move about on the matching designated map once activated.

"Careful!" Fred hissed, causing me to nearly squirt the entire contents of the dropper onto the common room table.

Fred didn't want me to waste any of the potion we made because the ingredients we used were rare and not exactly retrieved from by the most legal means. Snape would certainly not let me off the hook if he caught me dipping my hand in his stash of vampire baby teeth even if I was stark naked this time.

"Well, shut up then," I snapped, jerking my neck towards him.

I dripped one final drop onto the tack and released a relieved breath, setting down remaining potion. George picked up the map as Fred gently lifted the tag that partnered the map.

"Alright," said George with great anticipation in his tone, "give it a go."

Fred slowly walked as if he was atop egg shells to the opposing corner of the Gryffindor common room. I stood up from my seat and looked over George's shoulder, watching with glee as black lines seemed to be painted on the paper with an invisible brush. I gasped and smiled with pride as a small golden dot appeared on the freshly drawn map. It moved as Fred moved, gleaming like a star. George looked up at me and smiled. We'd worked so hard on this invention that it was wonderful to see are efforts finally pay off. Fred rushed behind us to witness the success.

"It worked," Fred breathed quietly at first before raising his voice. "It worked!"

Fred wrapped George and I into a bear-like hug, pushing us up against one another, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"What should we call it?" I asked.

"I was thinking something like the 'Parent Plotter' or the 'Mischief Map,'" said George, "or what about 'Tack Tracker?'"

"Oh, I like the last one," I beamed. "Good job, Georgie."

"This little invention is going to pay off," said Fred wisely. "Who wouldn't want to be able to know where their superiors are at all times to be able to get away with more shenanigans?"

My eyes caught a glimpse of the large coo-coo clock on the mantle above the Gryffindor hearth that stole my attention away for a moment. I had twenty minutes before I had to meet Cassandra for our latest session. I didn't really know what I was going to say to her. I didn't know if I should flat out tell her I was interested in learning how to use my power as a sort of trial run would go over well, however, part of me had an inkling that any interest in keeping my power would make her ecstatic. I'd mentioned the idea to the twins, and they were obviously more than pleased, but I was still rather nervous. I felt idiotic, really. I'd never really considered what being a seer really meant. I could have the power to change the future. I could prevent any other tragedies from occurring, prevent losing the ones I love. I could get back the power I'd lost the night my Mother died. It seemed so crystal clear now.

"You better get going," said George, catching my line of sight towards the clock.

"I've changed my mind," I said abruptly, desperation in my voice.

"Great, does this one work any better?" Fred smirked.

"Oh, come off it," said George. "You're doing the right thing, and Cassandra will be more than pleased to hear you've decided to take a different route, don't doubt yourself."

"George is right," said Fred. "You don't want to be late."

"No," I scoffed hollowly. "I reserve tardiness for classes and other general mandatory appointments."

"Get a move on then," said Fred, setting my messenger bag upon my shoulder and gently shoving me towards the exit. "We can manage from here."

I nodded, clutching my strap and strode towards the open portrait hole. I turned back for a moment, recognizing George's voice calling out to me.

"Freddie?" he said. "Everything is going to be fine, don't worry."

And I knew he was talking about much more than just tonight.

–

I slowly climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower to meet Cassandra. She was leaning against the windowsill as she usually did, her bear-sized dog beside her. I didn't feel upset to see her this instance. It was a rather odd feeling, honestly. Cassandra was staring whimsically up at the stars, her familiar eyes that belonged to my Father's family seemed mystified by the moonlight that illuminated her pale skin. I wondered, for a moment, if she was reading them, the stars I mean. I bet she could if she wanted to, and I knew with proper training I could too. The large dog saw me first for once and playfully trotted towards me, standing on his hind legs and resting his paws on my shoulders. He really was enormous, towering over me like a literal bear. His tongue hung out of his jaw, sloppily licking my face before returning to to all fours. I laughed, affectionately ruffling the fur on his horse like mane.

"Good to see you too, Leo," I laughed lightly, patting his side before approaching Cassandra.

"Ah, Granddaughter," she beamed. "The 'eavens tell me you come bearing news. What, may I ask, do you wish to share with me?"

"I've been thinking," I said timidly. "I mean, I've thought about what you said you know about how rare this gift is, how I can help people, and I've sort of changed my mind. I want to be able to use my ability. I want to be able to protect the people I love by preventing future evils."

"Oh, child, 'ow 'appy you 'ave made me!" she said, clapping her hands together. "You will not regret thees decision! I promise you!"

"Well, I have conditions," I said, ignoring her excitement. "I don't want any publicity. I don't want to be well known like you. I have no wish for fame or glory, no interest in being a household name as you are."

"As you wish," she agreed, though some regret was apparent in her voice. "I sometimes wish my abilities remained private."

I found that hard to believe, but I chose not to reply.

"So, anyway," I sighed. "How do we go about doing this?"

"Eet ees actually a much easier process than thee path you 'ad chosen before," she explained. "Eet will just be a much more intense Divination class, seeing as you will be taught be a legitimate instructor unlike that imposter, Sybill Trelawney!"

"Er– alright," I said slowly. "What's your problem with Professor Trelawney? I mean, sure she's a crazy old bat, but she's nice enough, a bit deluded–"

"She ees a descendant of Calchas, thee bloody scoundrel," she huffed.

"The great seer from ancient Greece?" I said with an upward inflection. "I remember reading about him in... well, in _your _book."

"Ah, eef you read of Calachas then you read of 'is demise as well," she smiled wickedly. "'e was shown for thee true fraud 'e was by Mopsus, thee greatest seer who 'as ever lived, and a descendant of ours as well."

"We're distant relatives of Mopsus?" I said. "Wicked."

"We are, child, 'is granddaughters," said Cassandra. "The gift of Sight remains een a seer's blood for generations."

"I wonder how many 'greats' that would equal out to," I smirked.

"That ees not thee point," she insisted, ignoring my humor. "'er disgraceful family 'as been clinging to their weak ability of Sight for 'undreds and 'undreds of years, as our powers grow stronger after each generation, theirs grows ever weaker."

"Eh, let her hold onto what little power she has," I shrugged. "I'm sure she still has loads more ability than most people without seer's blood. Not to mention, didn't Mopsus end up killing Calachas in a duel anyway. I think we're pretty much square by now."

"I'm going to avoid further argument by changing thee subject," Cassandra frowned, her reddened cheeks slowly losing their color again.

"Sounds good," I smirked, enjoying her outrage thoroughly.

"Well, I think we should start with crystal balls," she began. "I'm sure you are familiar with thee enchanting device by now even eef your instructor ees an embarrassment to thee art of Divination."

"Yeah, I was her best student, especially in crystal ball readings," I said with confidence.

Cassandra led me to a nearby desk and placed her hands on my shoulders to lead me into a chair. I sat down and watched her pull a crystal ball from her large handbag. It was much smaller than the typical crystal balls I had seen in Divination. It was about the size of a ripe tomato and it seemed to shine to a degree I would have thought to be impossible. It was rather beautiful to be honest. I tried not to look too impressed, but I surely failed. Cassandra placed it on an equally small stand and admired it from behind me.

"This, my dear child, ees a treasured family heir loom," she said with pride. "This ees one of thee rarest crystal balls on earth. Eet belonged to Mopsus 'imself, passed down from seer to seer for generations, and now I am leaving eet to you."

"I couldn't," I said breathlessly.

"Eet calls to you," she smiled. "You are now thee rightful owner."

"Thanks," I said awkwardly as Cassandra didn't hesitate to take my hands in her wrinkled ones, leading my palms to the crystal. She did not place my hands upon it however, choosing to pause only an inch or so above the surface instead.

"I can safely gather that you 'ave no trouble seeing images een thee crystals, but I also can deduct that you struggle understanding their meanings," she said. "You must clear your mind as I taught you before, grant thee crystal thee power to etch scenes een your mind, and allow thee images to overtake your very being. We will begin with simply allowing your conscience to direct us down which ever path eet chooses, but once you 'ave mastered this task then we will begin taming your power to follow your commands."

I nodded, closing my eyes for a moment to clear my mind just before Cassandra placed my palms upon the smooth crystal. I felt the same electrifying feeling I was accustomed to every instance I used a crystal ball but something was different this time. I felt like I was about to be lifted off the floor, about to levitate. My body convulsed just once, my head jerked back abruptly, my eyes staring at the ceiling with an inhuman expression for a moment before returning to the crystal ball. I didn't see fog as was common for everyone reading the crystal, including me, everything was perfectly clear.

"What ees eet child, what do you see?" she asked in a twisted tone.

I saw four massive beasts, fire-breathing demons. They were terrifying even now. Cassandra looked over my shoulder, noticing my disturbed expression.

"Dragons," I breathed.

–

_**A/N: **__Three months? I am awful. I've had thousands of words written for three months, and I could not manage to battle my writers block enough to update. I did go go from three to seven thousand words after Deathly Hallows came out (which I loved so much that I went to it three times). How amazing were the Fred/George brotherly moments? I love them... obviously, ha ha. Anyways, I've missed Winnie and I can't wait to move on to Part III. The remainder of Part II will move much quicker from now on. I feel like I've reached a stability in their friendship and Winnie and Oliver's relationship to leave out details I would have deemed necessary before._

_**PS:**__ I just want to thank each and every one of you for reading and reviewing this fic. I have had a rough few years as of late, and I use ff and YouTube as creative outlets and without such amazing feedback from you guys I think I'd be a hundred times more stressed out than I have been. I just need you all to realize that I appreciate you more than you could ever know. Thanks so much again._

_**PSS:**__ I will update in less than a week, promise. I already have seven thousand words written for the next chapter, so I'm halfway there._

_**Questions for you:**__ Do you feel like Winnie and the twins have a strong enough bond/friendship? What are your thoughts on Winnie/Ollie (Woillie, ha)?_

_**Coming Soon:**__ The return of Charlie, Winnie's powers grow stronger, The First Task, The Yule Ball brings unimaginable...well, you'll just have to wait and see (It's going to be the most surprising chapter in the series thus far with any luck)._

–

_**SATURDAY SHOUTOUTS**_

–

_Thanks so very much for your wonderful reviews to:_

_**amberhathaway, Jillianfofillian ,Kat, Kathryn, Miriflowers, Smorze101, Li Ninj, FredsLastLaugh, muladhara, TheDuckSaidMoo, Kath the Dreamer, anonymous, Booklover555, kitcool, fireboltcrazed. Doppleganger13, Taluliaka, imAddicted. 2Myipod, Charlie'sDragon, Maddie Black, megera, Lu Lu Reader, StarletSpotlight, storm-petrel, harlequincabaret, Kumori Gem, CASMERIDITEMIONE,WhatsGoingOn, Rockin'thekneesocks**_

_**x7 onlyh0pe: **__I hope my PM helped clear things up=) the_

_**Ordinari: **__Thanks so much for being a loyal reviewer! I notice it, and I adore you for it=)_

_**Parella08:**__Thanks so much! That was such a kind review=) I would never abandon Winnie, I adore her too much. However, I have written other fics and despised the characters enough to abandon them. Winnie is not one of them=) Thanks again!_

_**Quidditchandsonicscrewdrivers: **__Thanks! I'm so glad you said that! Freddie is like me in a lot of ways, and I must say that I'm quite pleased the way she's turned out. I sort of created her, and she took on a life of her own since then. She started out as a Mary Sue, and I put a lot of effort into making her a believable character... I hope she still is=) I'm sorry the whole Oliver meeting didn't go how you would have liked, but Winnie's character development relies a lot on Oliver still. Their relationship they share is detrimental to Winnie discovering who she truly is and where her allegiances lie. George and Alicia... Alicia sort of does the same to George on a smaller and less important scale. She is much more a speed bump than a lesson. When everything begins to tie together then you'll understand what I'm trying to say. George and Alicia's journey will come to a dramatic end sooner than you can imagine even though Winnie and Oliver still have some mountains to climb together. Thanks again for the review!_

_**PancakeMixUnrated:**__ Alicia is a witch! Ha ha! The Winnie/Oliver and Winnie/George relationships will work themselves out, no worries! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!_

_**Cassie: **__I'm going to reply to both of your delightful reviews together=) Okay, you'd be right about the reasons George was comforting Winnie thing. No, they won't come together at the Yule Ball. I completely agree, that would be beyond cliché. Gag. They may have a moment, but they are still not at a place to be together yet. They have a lot of growing to do apart before they can even think about coming together. In regards to Winnie's outfits comment... just wait for the Yule Ball. She may surprise you. I'm glad you're enjoying the read, and I know I do that book thing more than I rightfully should, but as you said before, I'm just trying to make their untold story believable. I'm trying to be much more aware of that transgression, and I'm going to try to keep it to a minimum from now on. I will continue to use the book as a guide for major scenes I see necessary to include to simply remind the reader of the book's true events even if they don't necessarily involve Winnie being the main character. Finally, the Seer thing. I know that now it's sort of just a random side note that comes off as a filler plot, but I can promise you that Part III to Part V will have a whole heck of a lot to do with Winnie's ability. I mean, if Voldemort had the opportunity to see the future, wouldn't he jump at the chance? Dun...dun...dun ;)_

_**Megan: **__Thank you so very much! I just re-read the seventh book the other day (I went on a tangent and read all night, crazy me), and I did the same thing. Whenever there was a twins' scene I would place her in it out of habit. Here's an update, and I promise to update a lot over my Christmas holiday! Thanks for the feedback=)_

_**Smoky Heather: **__Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the read! It's funny you mention the British beta thing because I've been thinking of looking for one. If you'd be interested or know anyone who would be willing to glance over my next chapters I would be eternally grateful! I lived/studied in England over the summer actually (greatest place on earth in my opinion), and I started understanding more British idioms, but I've sadly lost them since my return. I wish I was better at slang! I was talking to some natives in England about slang outside a train station in... Windermere or possibly Derby... I want to say (we were in every corner of the UK so I don't remember where I was half the time), and they said the words and phrases I asked them about would make me sound like a 70 year old woman if I used them, ha! Anyways, greeting from across the pond! I miss the UK so much!_

_**Fanny-kun:**__ Ha! I wish I had a flying motorcycle to have malfunction! Yes, I've been swamped ay school and suffering from extreme writers block in the HP fandom department. I hope this changes! Thanks so much for your lovely and loyal reviews! I appreciate it more than you know! Thanks so much=)_

_**DesireOFfantasy:**__ I'm glad you don't think Winnie is all cliché, etc. I hate the term and well "Mary-Sues" in general as well. I'm glad you like Fred (he's my favorite twin actually). Oliver isn't the unfaithful type (at least not the way his character is now), but he is the self-absorbed type, that could play into a lot of his downfall. I've made Alicia the ultimate villain, ha. She's selfish, crude and heartless. I don't mind her in the books, but I love Angelina and Katie Bell too much to have made them antagonists to our heroes lol. I also am opposed to fics that have a million original characters or I would have just created one. I try to remain as canon as possible by incorporating new background stories to existing characters (i.e. Benjy Fenwick, the Prewett brothers, Karkaroff, Travers, Marlene McKinnon, Caradoc Dearborn, etc). Winnie's grandparents and aunt are the only other original characters I've actually developed so far, but they won't play a big enough role to bother me. Wow, I am in a rambling mood. So sorry! Anyways, thanks so much again for the review!_

_**Cassandra-Jayne: **__Thanks so much for review 307! I appreciate it! I enjoy Oliver and Winnie a lot as well, they still have a story to tell... who knows maybe their end has a new beginning;)_

_**Cherry Tree Blossoms: **__Another George/OC shipper? Love it! I will have to give your fic a read next time I have a second to sit down and read for pleasure! I'm so glad you like Winnie! No cheating and scheming, but I hope you're not disappointed! Thanks so much for the feedback!_

_**Sakuraarchibi08:**__ I'd be lying if I said the thought of Ollie cheating didn't cross my mind (it sure would make the story progress quicker), but I just can't see his character being so hateful, at least not yet. Thanks so much for reviewing!_

_**Jillian Mastrano 101: **__I know, right? Winnie and George are just too... Winnie and George lol. I can tell you with confidence that Oliver's faithfulness will not likely ever be called to question, but I plan on really showing Oliver's selfishness and other flaws from his mixed up priorities to his immature tendencies. It'll develop in upcoming chapters, promise. Alicia does need a swift punch to the face especially after this chapter, but she'll get what she has coming. Thanks for reviewing so much!_

_**GetOffMyCarousel:**__ Thanks so much! The friendship thing was hard to come up with, ugh. Alas, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Thanks again for reviewing!_

_**Tonidepp16:**__ The twins have started to understand that there is nothing they can do or say to make her feel better, no matter how badly they try or want to. They could never be angry at her for trying to fix herself, but I think if she just laid around and pouted they would be more upset. They're not used to Winnie being so frail, and they really just want to make sure she gets through what's consuming her no matter what the means. I also couldn't force a long, emotional conversation between her and George again. They both know how the other feels, and they both understand that things won't change anytime soon. They're each other's best friends, and they aren't too keen on starting a pointless fight with the other when nothing either of them could say would fix the way they feel. They're relationship used to be simple, and they want to get back to that no matter how difficult that is._

_**Wiatch:**__ I missed you, lovie! Yes, I adore Juno! I thought that line fit perfectly, so I couldn't resist! I love to hate Alicia, lol. She is a total bitch! I'm glad the Benjy and Igor friendship was a surprise. It came to me at random, and I just went with it. I promise I will sit down and give your fic a read this upcoming week. This has been the semester from hell, and now that I'm finished I plan on having much more time to read! Swear! I'll have to give that web page a look as well! Thanks love!_

_**Angel2:**__ The title is from Winnie and Igor's dialogue when she says, "Your very existence is a constant reminder that the wrong person died that day, that you breathe the oxygen stolen from my Mother's lungs!" You're getting your wish about the Yule Ball! Yay! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, love!_

_**InsignificantBlimp: **__That Ollie-Pop comment made me die laughing. Oh, lord that was hysterical! I hope you're feeling better seeing as it's three months since your review. Hell, you could have been sick a dozen more times since then lol. Oh, no! Not Crookshanks! This review made my day! Thanks so much=)_

–

_**Review.**_


	11. Chapter 10: The Yule Ball

_**Chapter Ten**_

_The Yule Ball_

–

_Be who you are and say what you feel,  
__because those who mind don't matter  
__and those who matter don't mind._

–

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I have visual aids for the Yule Ball gowns I will be  
describing in this chapter at the bottom of my profile.

–

Over the following three weeks, my lessons with Cassandra had left me feeling a new sense of strength that I had never experienced before my prior sessions, quite the opposite of how I typically felt leaving the Astronomy Tower a month or so ago. The crystal ball in my messenger bag had given me loads of confidence that I could some day master its power completely and do some real good with my ability. I hadn't had any abrupt visions since we began mastering my craft, and that was major benefit. I felt comfortable in my own skin again, with my only worry involving Alicia's fidelity or lack there of. I knew George could sense something was up as he noticed that Alicia and I began ignoring each other instead of bickering as we typically partook in. I acted as if she didn't exist, and she remained indifferent when I spent time alone with George as long as I kept out of their affairs. It was just unbearable to have such a detrimental secret that could impact a person's life and just be unable to bring yourself to say anything. I just tried distracting myself with my sessions with Cassandra instead of mulling over the turmoil in my head.

She'd began teaching me brief lessons in mind reading which she had warned me was much more difficult than it's given credit for. She was right. I'd decided that practicing on Fred and George was a good way to make sure I was getting what I needed out of her lessons. I had to admit, though I was be no means exceptional at the art of mind reading, I was a pretty fast learner.

One particularly boring Sunday evening I had met the twins up the the Clock Tower to try to conquer our boredom. Fred sat with his legs straight out and crossed over one another as he rested nonchalantly upon an windowsill. George and I sat in the middle of the floor, just before the enormous ticking clock that we had magically silenced. We sat cross-legged, our knees touching while Fred looked on. My fingertips were gently clutching his head, holding it firmly before me. My eyes were closed in deep concentration, practicing the skills Cassandra had just taught me not an hour ago. I had asked George to pick a number between one and a million. Cassandra had started off my mind reading lessons by her choosing numbers or colors and then asking me to read what she had chosen. We started with numbers one through ten and primary colors, but I'd excelled much quicker than even she expected.

"Twenty-eight thousand... six hundred... and t– thirteen," I said smiling to myself just before reopening my eyes and dropping my hands from his skull.

"Brilliant," George grinned, looking impressed at my ability. "You're amazing, Freddie."

"Thanks, Georgie," I blushed, affectionately pinching his cheek. "Pick a color."

Replacing my hands to his temples, I closed my eyes again not to see the usual black but the color green.

"Green," I beamed, releasing him again.

George nodded, smiling proudly.

"It's too bad we'll never be able to utilize your gift," Fred sighed, hanging his legs over the side towards us and gripping the ledge. "Maybe we could pass you off as a hair dresser to get you close enough to people's heads to see what they're thinking."

"I have no intentions of using my ability once I've mastered it unless it's completely necessary," I said, looking over at him and pushing myself away from George. "Though I know you'd leap at the chance to infiltrate peoples' minds. Just master Occlumency then you can do it yourself."

"Too much work," he shrugged, yawning and stretching his arms over his head. "I'd prefer to just reap the benefits of your natural ability if you weren't being so stingy about it."

"Rawr. You're certainly cranky," I smirked, amused with him. "What's on your mind? Excuse the overstatement."

"You're the mind reader," he said.

"You're right," I exclaimed, hopping to my feet and darting towards him with my hands extended. He leapt up off his seat and dodged me. I started walking like Frankenstein, my arms extended rigidly as if I was going to squeeze out his brains. "Where are you going, Fred? I just want to look into your brain... then eat it."

"You'll have to catch me first," said Fred before he burst out laughing, snatching up his things and running out the doorway and down the staircase.

George and I raced after him, thinking a game of tag could occupy a bit of our time. Hopping down from the final step to climb onto the correct platform to ascend the opposing to Gryffindor Tower after Fred, George and I caught a glimpse of an exasperated-looking Professor McGonagall stop Fred dead in his tracks. She said something hasty to him that I couldn't make out before she hurried towards George and I with Fred in toe, seeming a bit annoyed for reasons unbeknownst to me.

"There you are," she sighed, heaving a heavy sigh. "I've been looking all over for you three. Where have you been?"

"Professor, we've known each other for many years," I said realistically, "and I think we both know by now that you have no intention of believing us even if we told you where we were, and you really don't want to know the true answer anyway. Let's just skip the formalities for once, so you can tell us what exactly it is we've done this time."

McGonagall rolled her eyes but just gave up arguing with me. I could tell she was in no mood. The twins smiled and me, catching my eye.

"Oh, just come with me," she said, leading the three of us towards her office.

We were familiar with her office, having been reprimanded within its quarters many times over the years. She had more books than a library whilst attaining an almost eerie level of cleanliness that matched her personality. I felt a twinge of uneasiness that was undoubtedly shared with the twins when we rounded the corner and saw Ginny and Ron standing outside her door, the remaining members of the Weasleys at Hogwarts. The second all five of us were together we exchanged fretful expressions, fearing the worst. As McGonagall pulled out her key to unlock her door we all asked the most logical question on all of our minds in unison.

"Who died?"

McGonagall released another annoyed huff as she took her office key off its hook.

"I can assure you that no one has died," she said as if we had asked the most foolish question imaginable.

"Yeah, that's what Mum told us when Auntie Muriel bit the big one," said George, "but she's been absent from holiday suppers for ten years now–"

"Mr. Weasley, that's quite enough," said McGonagall, placing her selected key in the lock.

"Is someone ill then?" I asked.

"Oh, I hope it's Percy!" said Fred in an excited tone as McGonagall pushed open her office door.

"Sorry to disappoint, Fred," said a familiar voice. "It's only me."

It was Charlie. He was leaning against the wall behind McGonagall's desk, sporting a cheeky grin. He spread his arms out like a proud bird of prey and bowed to his small crowd. He looked more tanned than he had when we'd seen him last, his hair a bit shaggier and his arms a bit more scarred. The five of us shared matching surprised grins.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ginny and Ron simultaneously.

"Now what kind of welcome is that?" he smirked.

We entered McGonagall's office so she could close the door behind us before rounding her desk to sit in her usual chair. She removed her dark pointed hat and set it on the table before addressing us.

"Mr. Weasley is here to assist with the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament," she explained, "but I will elaborate no further unless the five of you swear yourselves to secrecy."

"On pain of death," Charlie mocked.

"Not quite," McGonagall corrected, "but you will jeopardize Hogwarts' chances in the Tournament if you do breathe a word spoken within the confines of my office."

We all exchanged confused looks.

"I know you lot want to treasure every minute of bonding with me tonight," said Charlie, "so just agree to keep your big gobs shut so we can get a move on."

We all shrugged and nodded in agreement.

"Good, now that we've gotten your word then you're welcome to follow Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall as Charlie headed for the door, motioning for us to follow after him. Charlie exited from McGonagall's office, leaving us in stunned silence. We exchanged confused looks again before darting after him. I ran ahead of the others, slowing my pace once I reached Charlie's side.

"Where exactly are we going, Charlie?" I asked as the twins appeared by my side, Ron and Ginny tailing a few feet behind.

"Now, I would have expected you of all people to know where I'm taking you lot," said Charlie, slinging his arm over my shoulders and pulling me up against him to whisper in my ear. "In fact, I would have thought you'd have have seen my arrival in your crystal ball or something."

I elbowed his side causing him to only pull me closer and place a sloppy kiss atop my head.

"The dragons," I said quietly. "I did see dragons... I should have known. You mean that the First Task of the tournament involves those bloody monsters?"

"They're merely misunderstood," he replied, turning to the twins for support.

"Ah, yes," Ron nodded in mock agreement, finally catching up to the four of us with Ginny in toe. "I typically breathe fire when I like someone."

"I best warn Hermione then," said Ginny under her breath, causing both of us to snicker at his expense.

"You must really love everyone in the morning," said George humorously, "because you certainly have some intense dragon breath before you brush your teeth."

"Oi!" Ron objected.

Knowing the First Task was soon coming up the following week, I wondered if Ron would break our little ethical promise and tell Harry about the dragons even though he was still not speaking to him, which was getting rather excessive. I hoped he would, but I wasn't keen on pressing the subject as we approached the Forbidden Forest.

Once we had walked so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight – I heard something. Men were shouting up ahead… then came a deafening, earsplitting roar. For a split second, I thought we were approaching distant bonfires, and men darting around them – and then my mouth fell open.

Dragons. Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting – torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground; a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might; a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air; and a gigantic black one, more lizardhike than the others, which was nearest to them. What took my breath away above all else was the fact that I'd seen this all before, it was the exact scene I'd witnessed in my crystal ball.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, I looked up, high above the group of us, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, I couldn't tell which… It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream. I'd seen dragons before when we had previously visited Charlie, but there was something most unsettling seeing the demons up close when I knew what they were destined to do once they set eyes on the four champions: kill.

–

_Dear Ollie,_

_I know you're busy over the next couple weeks, but I figured I'd check in with you since I won't be able to spend my Christmas holiday with you like we planned. You should look into coming to one of the final two tasks before it's too late and the tournament ends. It's murder not seeing you. I feel like the only time I get updates on your life nowadays is in the papers. Speaking of, I got another owl from Witch Weekly requesting an interview for their upcoming issue involving some rubbish about average citizen girls with famous boyfriends. I threw it away again. _

_I saw you nearly accomplished another shut out against the Canons (which you should have because Chudley is dreadful his season), so fine job. I know you play the Harpies coming up, so you better be resting up to be on top of your game. They're your only real competition this year, but you know that as well as I._

_My lovely great-grandmother, Cassandra "I prefer reading stars to books" Vablatsky, has been teaching me some amazing things to be honest. Great infinity grandfather Mopsus's crystal ball is doing wonders to my confidence of my abilities. Though I'd never admit it aloud, I'm sort of embarrassed I didn't embrace my powers earlier. I was so foolishly ungrateful to try to deny them for this long. I mean, you said it yourself, it's been decades since the last true seer was born before me, and who's to know if and when another will be born? Last week she started teaching me how to read minds which seems much easier than it truly is. Anyways, she's going to keep training me on that subject for awhile and then we're moving on tea leaves and then astrology. _

_Sometimes I wonder where I could be at if I'd listened to Dumbledore and Cassandra almost a year ago to begin with. I mean, I wasted so many Sunday lessons just acting as a frightened little spoiled child. Cassandra said that judging by my abilities and my age, I have the potential to be one of the greatest seers to ever live. I still don't want to actually pursue that as an actual career path, but I just can't help but think of all the good I'll be able to do, all the lives I could save. It's such an empowering feeling._

_Well, I've rambled like a raving lunatic, so sorry. I hope to hear from you as soon as your schedule slows down, no rush. I love you, and see you soon._

_Love Always,  
__Freddie_

"Take this to Oliver, June, he should be at practice soon so head for Puddlemere and wait in the locker room for him," I said, handing the envelope to the tiny black ball of fluff. She kept her beak closed tight, turning her enormous eyes to slits. I rolled my eyes and huffed a heavy breath. "Please?"

If birds could smile then that's what I could classify her response as. She immediately snatched the message from my hand and flew out the window without another hoot. I smirked at her attitude and wondered if she'd gotten her attitude before or after she belonged to me. I wished that June could speak so I could ask her if Oliver had even glanced at my letters. I hadn't heard from him in three weeks, and I was sick of relying on the papers for updates on his life.

I shrugged at the thought and pulled on my maroon knitted hat from Molly, adjusting the large golden puff ball atop, completing my outfit. I wanted to show my support for Harry by wearing Gryffindor colors. I sported my maroon chucks, golden mittens, faded and tattered jeans, and my handmade gold and maroon striped sweater from Molly. I tugged on my jacket then tightened the rubber bands on either of my pigtails before descending the stairs. Fred and George were both down at the pitch already taking bets from early arrivals, Alicia and Katie had gone to find seats for the lot of us and Lee was in the library helping Angelina with Arithmancy and planned on showing up just before the First Task began. Seeing as all three of those options sounded unappealing, I opted to take my time and walk down to the field when I was ready and able.

The common room was nearly empty besides a couple small groups of second years and a bushy-haired young lady I recognized sitting in the favored ancient maroon armchair before the fireplace. I skipped down the last few steps and walked over to wear Hermione sat, plopping down on the coffee table right before her. She had been furiously chewing on her thumbnail and nearly leapt from her seat in surprise at my abrupt intrusion.

"Hey Granger," I smiled.

"Merlin, Winnie," she gasped. "You gave me a fright."

"Sorry," I smirked. "I tend to do that. I just came over to see why you of all people aren't already down at the pitch. Are you waiting for Ron or something?"

"No, he's already gone with Seamus and Dean," she said quietly. "I'm just scared for Harry, and I'm not too anxious to go down and worry amongst loads of people earlier than I must."

"Well, do you want to walk down to the field with me?" I asked. "It's not all that early anymore."

Hermione glanced up at the coo-coo clock and swallowed hard before meeting my eyes again.

"Yes, I suppose that would be fine," she said airily. "I may try to have a final quick word with Harry before the Task as well."

She and I walked down the stairs from Gryffindor Tower in silence. Hermione Granger and I had never really been all that close. In fact, she bordered between annoying and amusingly uptight in my book, but she was one of Ron's best friends and I knew she had a good heart. I could tell she was unbelievably nervous for her best friend, and I wanted to get her mind off her worries but didn't really know how. Therefore, I went with the only topic of conversation I could think of that could be time consuming. It wasn't one I was fond of, especially after hearing about it twenty-four hours a day, but I asked her anyway.

"Excited about the Yule Ball?" I asked, gritting my teeth

"Mildly," she shrugged, not the answer I was expecting. "Are you?"

"Not a bit," I smirked. "_Me_, in a _dress_? Come on, Hermione, I thought you were supposed to be smart."

"Well, I didn't know if you had gotten permission from Professor McGonagall for Oliver to be allowed to come," she said. "That would be something you would be excited about."

"No, I told him I wasn't even going to bother asking McGonagall," I replied, hopping off the final step of the staircase like a child while Hermione gracefully descended instead. "He has an all star Christmas charity match that following morning, and I don't want him to have the trouble of making the trip. I actually haven't talked to him much at all in general..."

"So you're going _alone_?" she asked as if I was extremely brave or something.

"It's not the end of the world, Hermione," I laughed.

"I was just implying that it would be easy for you to get a date," she went on quickly. "I would have thought you would at least go with another male friend even just on a platonic basis."

"Well, Fred will end up going with Angelina once his lazy arse gets around to properly asking her, and George is going with Alicia obviously," I explained with a hint of disgust. "Lee just asked that Dylan girl from Ravenclaw, Roger Davies asked Maddy Crouch, Seamus is taking L–"

"I get it," she interrupted.

"I do have Graham Montague on retainer," I joked. "He's just too far out of my league, I would feel self-conscious all night, but what about you? Has Ron asked you yet?"

"No," she said fiercely as if I'd just asked her if she was part-troll or something, causing my eyes to widen. "He hasn't asked, nor will he. It doesn't matter, I wouldn't agree even if he did because someone has already asked me and I've said 'yes.'"

"Hermione Granger, you saucy minx," I teased. "Who's the lucky bloke?"

"It's a secret," she said, looking away. "Ginny is the only other person who knows."

"Aw, come now, secrets don't make friends," I laughed.

"If you promise not to tell anyone then I'll tell you," she sighed.

"Cross my heart," I grinned, skipping up and down with glee as we neared the growing crowd outside the gates of the pitch.

"Well, it was... I mean, I'm going with Viktor Krum," she said so quietly that I barely heard her.

"VIKTOR KRUM?"

"Will you keep your voice down?" she hissed, yanking my arm.

"Shut up, you are not!" I said with almost the same level of enthusiasm. "I didn't know you two even talk!"

"We really don't," she shrugged.

"Oh," I smiled implicitly.

"No, not like that!" she gasped, blushing ferociously. "I mean, he mostly watches me study. It's rather odd when you think about it, but he asked me last week."

"Ron is going to absolutely die when he sees you two," I smirked, wrapping my arm around her neck, "but I bet that was the reaction you were after all along."

"I know what you're trying to imply, Winnie," she frowned, pulling my arm off her shoulders, "and you're completely off base. I had no intentions of making Ron jealous by agreeing to go with Viktor. Our feelings are... well, nonexistent for one another. Our relationship is merely as simple as yours with Fred or George."

I snorted slightly, realizing the irony of her statement.

"That complicated, eh?" I said quietly after her as she departed off to the tents holding the champions.

–

"Can you believe it, sweetheart?" Alicia gushed, pulling excitedly on George's arm while he pretended to be completely interested in whatever horseshit she was going on about now. "Isn't it just wonderful?"

I sat two Weasleys from Alicia though her voice was still shrill and clear as day no matter the distance. Fred sent me a sideways glance. I'd just joined the group and was already prepared to strangle Alicia with my freezing cold hands.

"What's she going on about now?" I sighed, adjusting myself in the end seat upon the bleachers I wasn't used to sitting in. I was much more accustomed to flying over them instead.

"What I've gathered in between shrieks and high-pitched mumbles is that Rita Skeeter apparently read over Alicia's prompts," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "She passed them on to her editor at _The Prophet_, and he told Rita Skeeter to let Alicia know that if she can find herself a worthy front page story then she's got herself a job as a junior correspondent."

"And I think _you_ have got yourself a pretty decent chance for job as a translator, Weasley," I teased. "Now, if we can only convince the linguists that 'Hormonal Teenage Girl' is a legitimate language."

"He could apparently add 'Gibbering Idiots' to his resume as well," said George from beside Fred before having his attention physically yanked back towards Alicia. "You know, seeing as he can understand you."

I laughed along side the two boys wishing Alicia was no where in sight, so we could enjoy the tournament more wholeheartedly.

"So who is the favorite?" I asked Fred indifferently.

"Krum," he replied, "probably seeing as he most similarly resembles a beast."

I smiled to myself, recalling Hermione's confession.

"It looks like one of the exchange students is going to take home the Cup," said Fred. "Judging by how many students, even ones from Hogwarts, bet on Krum and Delacour. Speaking of, I always thought you'd make a good exchange student."

"Really?" I said, confused.

"Yeah, then maybe we could exchange you for someone good," he laughed.

"Oh, sod off," I laughed, elbowing his side. "In all seriousness though, I love Harry and I hope he wins, but my money is on Ced. There's no hiding he's athletic, and since he's older he has more experience with spells and such."

"Ah, yes," said Fred, pointing his index finger upwards before poking my nose. "However, Harry has the most experience defeating _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_."

"You've got me there," I smirked, swatting away his hand and turning back to the pitch as the tournament began. The other three contestants had been barely eaten or set on fire quite literally. My stomach lurched at the thought of little Harry having to out duel a dragon when his older opponents had barely accomplished the feat before him. I could only imagine what Harry felt like as hundreds and hundreds of faces stared down at him with anxious expressions. And then there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground.

I gripped Fred's hand tightly as a reflex as Harry raised his wand.

"Accio Firebolt!" he shouted.

And then we all heard it, speeding through the air behind him; the crowd turned as Harry did and saw the Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. Everyone (including me) began screaming… Bagman was shouting something too… Then Harry swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. And a second later, something miraculous happened…

As he soared upward, the Horntail's head followed him, and we all knew what it was going to do and apparently so did Harry because he pulled out of a dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away. Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck. Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky - he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes.

Harry flew ever higher, seeming to egg on the great lizard. And then Harry got his wish as the dragon reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last - and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs - he had taken his hands off his Firebolt - he had seized the golden egg –

And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm, and it was as though somebody had just turned the volume up to full capacity – everyone began screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup. Harry had got through the first task, he had survived.

I jumped up and down, clapping like a fool. Fred turned to me as he mimicked my motions and lifted me into a bear hug, spinning me around. I caught George's eye for only a moment, and I knew in the instant that he wished it would still be alright for me to be in his arms as well. However, the likelihood of George publicly hugging me was less likely than Neville Longbottom escaping the First Task with all his limbs.

–

The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though I didn't believe half of them – for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach us much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he actually allowed us to play games in his lesson on Wednesday. Other teachers were not so generous. Professors McGonagall and Moody kept us working until the very last second of our classes, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let us play games in class than wash his hair.

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up. I noticed that they were the most stunning I had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

The twins and I walked through the Fat Lady's entrance, that looked freshly polished, after Potions only to come face-to-face with the Golden Trio and Ginny in toe. Ron had just completed a tower of our trick cards that in turn exploded and singed his eyebrows. We chuckled lightly and pulled up three seats across from them. The twins wanted to borrow Ron's owl to send what I hoped would be their final letter to Ludo Bagman. Their cause was helpless, and I was beginning to get annoyed with their inability to just come to terms that they'd been had.

"Nice look Ron, go well with your dress robes, that will," said Fred cheekily.

"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" George asked.

"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," said Fred sarcastically.

"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," said George.

"No, I mean why don't you just borrow June from Winnie?" he repeated, unfazed.

"Because June is already out delivering a letter to her Ollie Wollie," Fred teased with puckered lips, pinching my cheek before I punched his arm.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" Ron asked the twins.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. "So… you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

"Nope," said Ron.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.

"Who're you going with, then?" asked Ron.

"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've finally asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi! Angelina!"

Angelina, who had been chatting with Katie near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Kates and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

"There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake. But anyways, are you going to lend us Pig or what?"

"No," he insisted, probably upset at Fred's prior display.

"Let's just wait for June to come back," I said. "She'll only be a bit longer."

"Fine," they agreed reluctantly.

Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle at Harry.

"We should get a move on, you know, ask someone. Fred's right as much as I hate to admit it," said Ron, peering reluctantly over at Fred who smiled wickedly back at him with a mocking wink. "We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls."

Hermione let out a sputter of indignation.

"A pair of what?" she said, aghast.

"Well – you know," said Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with – with Eloise Midgen, say."

"Millicent Bulstrode is much more unfortunate-looking, Ronald," I teased. "Before you go offending people at least make sure it's the right one."

"Well, Eloise's acne has been loads better lately – and she's really nice!" said Hermione defiantly.

"Her nose is off-center," said Ron.

"Oh I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"

"Er – yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron, causing the twins, Ginny, Harry and I to giggle furiously.

"You are unbelievable," Hermione snapped.

"But honestly, this is mad," Ron continued. "We're the only blokes left who haven't got anyone – well, except Neville. Hey – guess who he asked? Hermione! He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff – but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville… I mean, who would?"

"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh– oh shut up laughing!

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light, ignoring Ginny's embarrassment all together.

"Hermione, Neville's right – you are a girl…"

"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well – you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has."

"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh, did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"

And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories again.

"She's lying," said Ron flatly, watching her go.

"She's not," said Ginny and I quietly.

"Who is it then?" said Ron sharply.

"We're not telling you, it's her business," said Ginny and I nodded in agreement.

"Right," said Ron, looking extremely put out, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and I'll just–"

"I can't," said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. "I'm going with – with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought… well… I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year." She looked extremely miserable. "I think I'll go and have dinner," she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Ron ogled at Harry.

"Great, now what are we going to do?" asked Ron miserably.

"You could always go with one another," I teased. "That would turn some heads."

"That's not funny, Freddie... _Freddie_," said Ron, saying my name the second time as if he'd just had an abrupt revelation and apparently he had. "You're a girl too..."

"Oh, don't even think about it," I said, disapproving of the fresh look in his eye as I quickly took to my feet.

"The jury's still out on that one, mate," Fred smirked, nudging me playfully. I swatted him fiercely across the back of his head. "I can't imagine the bump on my head is going to do any good in your favor."

"No, perhaps a black eye would do the trick," I smirked.

"Freddie..." he whined.

"No chance, Ron," I insisted.

"Go to the ball with me," he asked quickly.

The twins erupted in a fit of laughter so loud and obnoxious that they fell from their seats. Ron ignored them and brought his attention back onto me.

"Please, Win, I'm desperate," he begged, sending me puppy dog eyes. "You're not going with anyone–"

"I'm not going with anyone because _I have a boyfriend_," I said, annoyed. "Why does no one understand that?"

"That's a perfect reason to go with me," he argued. "You're like my sister and it wouldn't be a date or anything!"

"That's not what everyone else would gather," I frowned.

"Since when do you care what everyone else thinks?" he asked, determined.

"I don't, I just–"

"Just walk in with me," he pleaded pathetically. "Just make it look like you're my date and then you can spend the remainder of your night with your friends, please!"

"Ron–" I started defiantly.

"Pretty please, Freddie," he begged, taking to his feet only to end up grabbing onto my leg whilst he crawled on his knees. "I'll owe you! Please!"

"For Merlin's sake, get up!" I insisted, yanking my leg from his grasp as the twins roared with laughter. "Fine, if you'll shut up I'll go with you, but there will be rules, Ronald."

"What?" they said in unison, their laughter dying out immediately.

Ron climbed to his feet in an instant with a relieved grin across his face. He hugged me while I kept my arms rigid at my sides.

"Rule #1, no touching me – _ever_," I frowned, making a disgusted face with my head turned to the side that made Ron release me. "Rule #2, you do not speak unless spoken to. Rule #3, if I'm thirsty you have one minute to fix that. Rule #4, one wise crack about me being a boy or making fun of my appearance, and I give a dramatic performance reenacting your most pathetic display in front of all your friends. And Rule #5, which is the most important rule of them all in my opinion is: you're letting me buy you new dress robes because even I refuse to be seen with you in those disgusting things."

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" he exclaimed before having yet another revelation. "Wait, but now Harry is out of luck."

I frowned and rolled my eyes. I felt as if I was some half-babysitter, half-party planner, and I was getting rather annoyed. I spotted Parvati and Lavender come in through the portrait hole and decided to take matters into my own hands.

"Oi, Pavarti, Lavender, come here for a tic," I called across the room, and once they approached I asked what Harry would be too embarrassed to do on a normal day. "Who are you lot going to the ball with?"

"Lavender is going with Seamus," said Pavarti sheepishly. "I'm still waiting for someone to ask me."

"Well, you can stop waiting," I said. "Harry wants to know if you'd go with him, don't you, Harry?"

"Er– yeah!" said Harry awkwardly, realizing I was solving his problem. "Would you want to be my date, Pavarti?"

Parvati and Lavender went into a fit of giggles. Harry and I waited for them to subside.

"Yes, all right then," she said finally, blushing furiously.

I turned back to Ron and the twins (who were in such a state of shock that they couldn't manage complete sentences) and smiled victoriously.

"Now, was that really that hard?"

–

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the sixth years had been given for the holidays I was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying myself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred, George and I had had great success with our Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only I seemed to be complaining about the Yule Ball.

I instantly regretting my pity date with Ron. I should have expected the twins and Lee to ridicule me mercilessly. They'd nearly branded every homework assignment I had left to turn in before holiday with either a bloody portrait of me snogging Ron or just some sort of sonnet involving either of our names. Though I was tempted, I refused to back out on Ron after I'd agreed to be his date. I wasn't that mean. The ball had upset my schedule with Cassandra. She offered to merely cancel our session seeing as I would not be mentally up to par after the weekend's festivities. However, I convinced her to meet me the morning of the Yule Ball instead because her schedule permitted such an irregularity.

"What do you see?" asked Cassandra, eyeing the scene before her with great determination in her eyes.

"Me dancing with Ron," I said, gritting my teeth, tightening my grip on George's cranium. "– in gorilla suits... and Ron is wearing a bow tie... and I'm wearing a princess tiara. Damn it, George, for the millionth time – quit picturing me in ridiculous costumes!"

Fred began laughing as he sat on the stone floor, playing around with Leo, and I turned quickly to point at him.

"That goes double for you," I snapped.

Cassandra chuckled lightly at our nonsense. She'd asked me to see if Fred or George, preferably both, would lend us their minds to read. Cassandra's mind was difficult to interpret because she was skilled in Occlumency to a point where her mind was nearly impenetrable. The twins obliged before I could even finish asking them because they'd been anxious from day one to meet Cassandra officially. What was so surprising about their first encounter was that Cassandra liked them. She genuinely found them entertaining and humorous. They got on quite well honestly.

"I think that's enough for today," said Cassandra, smiling and slowly taking to her feet. "You still 'ave to prepare yourselves for thee ball this evening, and so do I for that matter."

"You?" I said with an upward inflection.

"Quite," she grinned. "Professor Dumbledore requested my company for thee evening."

The twins began making kissy faces and holding their fists against their chests, swaying from side to side.

"Pardon them," I frowned. "They're not used to civilized conversation."

"No matter," she shrugged. "I will see you three this evening, and I am most anxious to see you all in your best."

"Don't get your hopes up," said Fred in jest. "Winnie in a dress could surely never be classified as the best of anything."

"Unless it was the best of the worst," said George, pointing his index finger upwards incredulously.

"I think she may surprise you both," said Cassandra, smiling at me. "Especially after I give 'er this."

Cassandra gripped her cane tightly as she shifted her weight to dig deep into her pocket. I approached her slowly, staring curiously at her closed, wrinkled hand. She carefully released her grip to hold out a small diamond encrusted white gold hair clip. It was small, no bigger than an inch thick and three inches long but it was no less beautiful. I was almost too timid to touch it, for fear my hands would dirty it or even worse, damage it.

"Eet belonged to my great-grandmother, and now eet ees yours to pass on to your own," she smiled weakly.

"I couldn't," I insisted. "I'd just muck it up, and you've already given me too much."

"I insist," she said, forcefully opening my own palm and delicately placing it within and closing my fingers around it.

"You are all our family 'as left," she said, "make me proud."

"Thank you," I said genuinely, and before I could help myself I hugged her.

–

I arrived upstairs to an already dressed Alicia and Katie, and a partially put together Angelina. Kates was finishing up Angelina's hair as she sat perfectly still and spoke animatedly about the ball. Alicia was scribbling a letter of some sort a rapid speed at her desk, seemingly deep in thought and appearing unaware that she had company. Her hair was bloody enormous. Her strawberry blonde mop of hair had been curled to a level that resembled something of a poodle. It fell to just below her shoulders while a bleeding tiara was propped up atop her tiny head. Don't even get me started on her dress... well, if you insist... it was blindingly pink, like strawberry cupcake pink. The bottom was that of a ball down with dozens of puffy pink layers of garment while the upper portion had so many sequins I couldn't tell if she was wearing a dress or trying to direct traffic. Not to mention it appeared that she'd spent all day powdering her already pale face because she resembled that of a bled pig.

Angelina wore a short, strapless black dress that ended just above her knees. Katie was taming her hair into a pretty bun atop her head as she slid on her flats. Katie's dress was a resembled Angelina's in a way but was red, much more formfitting and an inch or two shorter. Her hair was magically straightened to a level I thought to not be humanly possible, but lovely nonetheless. Her red lipstick matched her dress to a tee. Katie jerked her head towards me as she finished sticking the last pin in Angelina's hair.

"Where have you been?" she gasped. "We've been waiting for ages and now I only have time to do you make up!"

"Sorry, I lost track of time," I shrugged, plopping down on the seat where Angelina had just occupied. "You both look gorgeous."

"Thanks," they said in unison, sending each other half-smiles.

Katie immediately started painting my face up like mad. She outlined my eyes in some sort of silvery-black liner with navy blue shadow to match the dress I'd only described to her in passing. I didn't think my eyelashes could look so long after she piled on mascara before finishing me off with clear lip gloss and bloody glitter.

"I'd tidy your hair for you, but I'm supposed to meet Adrian downstairs so he can get into the tower," she explained, "and Angie has to go lend Maddy Crouch her earrings. Maybe ask Alicia."

I sent Katie and indignant look and glanced back the mirror at my only slightly less disheveled appearance.

"I'll manage," I replied, setting down the clip from Cassandra on my armoire.

"Well, I left those heels of mine for you on your bed," she went on, pausing in the door frame beside Angelina. "We're all meeting up in the common room in fifteen minutes to walk in together. I ran into Ron and already told him for you, no worries."

With that she was gone with Angelina, leaving Alicia and I alone for the first time since I returned from London. I took out my brush and began to comb through my rats. I set down the brush once I was finished and carefully lifted the gift from Cassandra. I looked from the pretty accessory in my hand up to the mirror and back again. I wasn't worthy to wear something so lovely. Sighing, I decided to helplessly place it atop my head. I gasped as soon as its teeth became situated in my dark locks because a strange reaction began to occur. My hair started to move about on its own as if snakes on Medusa's infamous head. My hair instantly became shiny, no frizz or dead ends in sight. My hair curled itself into long, loose banana waves that fell down my back as the top of my head began to poof up as if I'd ratted it do so for hours. I eyes myself in the mirror in shock, amazed at the cleverly enchanted hair piece. I didn't admire myself long, however, for my eyes fell upon the reflection of a nosy Alicia behind me. She was staring at me with a blank expression that made me think it had nothing to do with my appearance.

"What?" I said rudely, turning around to face her.

"Nothing," she shrugged as if she hadn't just been eyeing me. She looked down at letter in her hands for another quick moment before looking up at me with a disbelieving expression. "Nothing at all."

"Then quit looking at me like that," I frowned, returning to my own reflection. "You're giving me the creeps."

Alicia simply took to her feet (with great difficulty considering she was wearing about fifty pounds of fabric) and gently placed a message in the mouth of her owl, Cleopatra. The small white owl fluttered out into the darkness leaving Alicia to stare after her with a devious smile across her immensely painted up face. Her smile remained as she walked by me, humming some quiet tune. She paused in the open doorway, holding onto the frame with one hand and looking back out of the corner of her eyes.

"It's good that you look halfway decent tonight," she said slyly. "You don't want to look like rubbish in case you come across a photo op."

I rolled my eyes at her nonsense and turned to pull out my dress from my trunk. The gown Hermione had picked out for me was navy blue to match my eyes, I think. It was the shortest of all my friends' dresses by an inch or two and probably snugger as well. It had a strapless corset top and a short flowing bottom that sort of resembled feathers. I figured it would have been gorgeous on someone who cared about their appearance, however, I wouldn't be classified as such a person. I heard everyone begin to gather in the common room, so I struggled into my dress and snatched up my shoes without bothering to look in the mirror.

–

"We're just waiting on Winnie," said Angelina from down below.

"As always," Alicia muttered loud enough so that I could hear her from upstairs.

"Cut her some slack," George laughed. "You proper young ladies take ages to get ready on your own, I wager Winnie wishes she'd started working since before sunrise to make herself look half-decent. Come on, Freddie, you're making your little date wait all this time to see his polished turd for the evening!"

The boys laughed, slapping each other on the back. I was far from impressed with his playful banter. I slid my first foot into my black peek-a-boo toed pumps with great difficult and couldn't wait any longer to shout back at the boys for ridiculing my undoubtedly awkward appearance. I hobbled down the dormitory hallway, rising up and down after every step because of my one barefoot.

"You better shut your mouth, George Weasley!" I yelled, pausing atop the steps to improperly slide on my second heel with even greater difficulty. "You have no idea how much pain I'm in, and I am more than willing to transfer some onto you if you like! I can't breathe in this bloody corset of a dress, these shoes are too small, my ears are still bleeding from yesterday when Angelina pierced them, and don't even get me started on–"

When I looked up from shoving my foot into Katie's borrowed heels like a man pulling on a bloody rain boot, I realized the laughing had ceased from below and everyone was staring in stunned silence at me.

"What?" I snapped, receiving no answer.

I sent them a genuinely confused glare, puffing a loose curl from my eyes as I inelegantly flattened the front of my dress. I descended the staircase into the thick of the uneasy silence and rolled my eyes at the lot of them for being that rude about how I looked. I pushed through the twins, who were standing side-by-side, to reach Ron who looked as if he'd seen the ghost of Scabbers or something. His face was as red as a tomato, and I found it infuriating. I sent him a particularly nasty glare and turned around because of the intense feeling as if I was being watched. The twins, Adrian Pucey, Pavarti, Harry, Ron, Angelina, Lee, Dylan, Alicia, and Katie were all still ogling me with slacked jaws and wide-eyes.

"Honestly, is it that bad?" I frowned, rolling my eyes. "I didn't even pick it out and you two insisted I wear make-up and–"

"_Shit, Freddie_," said Fred as if he was out of breath.

"Let's hear it then," I said, beckoning the insults by motioning with my hands. "What, you can roll manure in powdered sugar but that doesn't make it a jelly doughnut?"

Fred snorted a laugh but stifled it almost instantly.

"No, I mean, look in the mirror, Win," he said in an unaccustomed tone. "You look... I mean, _wow_."

I walked to the common room's mirror beside the hearth and felt my knees buckle at the sight of my own reflection. I looked lovely in all honesty, but that wasn't why I was so taken aback. I barely recognized myself because I looked exactly like my Mum. I looked older, more mature, my petite figure accented by the dress that now reminded me to thank Hermione. Clearing my throat to erase any eerie feelings I had, I smiled fleetingly to face my friends with a much less flustered and defensive disposition.

"Oh, right," I blushed slightly. "Er– thanks."

"Well, we better get a move on before poor Ron loses consciousness," said Lee humorously.

I slapped the back of Ron's head swiftly, thus causing his jaw to slam shut and his eyes to focus once again. He frowned and gripped his aching head.

"I was going to tell you that you looked nice," said Ron begrudgingly, "but after that all I want to do is tell you that you look like a troll. However, I swore not to make any rude comments about your ghastly appearance, so I'm not going to say anything."

"Lovely, Ronald," I sighed, sliding my arm through his. "Shall we go then before I give Ron a black eye to match his robes?"

"Tallyho," said Fred cheerily, lifting Angelina into his arms as she laughed and carrying her through the portrait hole.

Everyone else began to trail after one another out the exit and just before I stepped out into the corridor after Alicia and Ron I felt a gentle grip around my forearm. George had held me back in the common room to face him. I had to admit, the heels were rather handy because of the fact that they allowed me to not have to practically stare up at a 90 degree angle to make eye contact. He looked at me in a way that I had never seen before and peered deep into my eyes.

"You really do look beautiful," he said a bit awkwardly, "breathtaking really, stunning, gorgeous–"

I stopped him by standing carefully on my tiptoes, tenderly resting my delicate palm on his cheek, and placed a meaningful kiss on his cheek. He closed his eyes, releasing a heavy breath, leaning his cheek closer against my lips. When I separated my lips from the soft skin of his cheek I kept my hand upon his jaw a moment longer, remembering how incredibly handsome he looked at that very second.

"Thanks, George," I breathed. "You look more handsome than I've ever seen you."

"And that's saying something because I look devastatingly handsome on a daily basis," he teased, ruining the sentimental moment before even I could.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a real prat?" I scoffed.

"Yeah," he smirked, "you."

–

"Where is Hermione?" asked Ron for the millionth time only to receive no answer for the millionth time as well.

A group of Slytherins came up the steps from their dungeon common room as we all gathered in the Entrance Hall. Montague was in front; he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in my opinion made him look like a vicar. Hestia Carrow in very frilly robes of pale blue was clutching Montague's arm. She and her twin sister, Flora (who was accompanied by Marcus Flint), were identical twin fourth years down to their matching looks of constant distaste. They alright looking besides their sour expressions, and I began to contemplate whether or not Flint and Montague paid them to be their dates. Peregrine Derrick and Lucian Bole were both wearing green; they resembled moss-colored boulders, and neither of them had managed to find a partner probably on account of their obvious physical and character flaws. Montague's jaw hung loose when he saw me, causing me to roll my eyes and latch on tighter to Ron's arm. I pretended I didn't even notice his presence and tried to hide myself behind Ron's tall stature.

I noticed Adrian Pucey looked rather uncomfortable in front of so-called friends. They sent him nasty glares, but he merely looked away, holding his head high in the air and wrapped his arm around Katie's waist a bit tighter. Maddy Crouch and Roger Davies (who looked lovely together in their formal attire together) met up with our enormous group to join Dylan as well as the rest of us. She waved sweetly to me, her arm latched onto Roger as he made casual Quidditch conversation with Adrian that visibly made him feel more at ease.

The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes, and I wondered why Hermione had lied to me about being Krum's date. Over my head I saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights - meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

Parvati readjusted her bangles, beaming; she and Harry said, "See you in a minute" to Ron and walked forward, the chattering crowd parting to let them through. Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim other hat, told the champions to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of us had sat down.

"Let's go, Ronniekins," I smirked, making a mild effort to calm Ron's pointless nerves. "You're ickle boyfriend will be able to manage without you for five minutes."

Judging by Ron's pompous expression, I think he was rather proud to have me as his date. He made some comment about me cleaning up nice or something or other which caused me to slap him across the back of his skull again. The lot of us sat down at the new House tabled that replaced the old once to wait for the champions and their dates to enter, the tables we were accustomed to were replaced with about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating over about a dozen people which was perfect for our group of twelve.

I noticed Ron kept eyeing his countless classmates who continued to whisper and ogle at me. It may sound conceded, but I was rather enjoying the sight of girls tugging their dates away from eye shot of me with jealousy in their eyes. It had never happened before and most likely wouldn't again, so I was eating that shit up as much as the extremely proud Ronald. He slung his arm lazily over the back of my chair as if to claim his territory. I rolled my eyes and told him that his arm better not move from the chair to my back or he could kiss that limb goodbye.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall welcomed in the champions and their partners in line in pairs, following her. As they did so, everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. It really was enchanting under the dimmed lights.

I couldn't believe my eyes when I realized the girl in the blue robes on Krum's arm from before had actually been Hermione. She looked gorgeous as she elegantly strolled by in her long gown that was similar to mine in a way. She smiled nervously at me as she passed us, and I winked at her gleefully. I noticed Ron was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes, looking sulky. His arm was suddenly lifted from behind my seat as he readjusted himself so he was slouched over, resting his elbows on his knees. I ignored his abrupt bad mood and scanned the dim hall for Cassandra.

I spotted her between McGonagall and an open seat that undoubtedly belonged to Dumbledore, as far away from Professor Trelawney as humanly possible. I felt rather bad for Trelawney because she was obviously completely in awe of my great-grandmother (judging by the fact that she kept trying to awkwardly shout comments into Cassandra's quiet conversation with McGonagall to no avail), but she had no idea that her idol loathed her very existence. Cassandra caught my eye and smiled kindly, sending me a wink through her large glasses. She barely looked the same without her constant companion, Leo, but she looked rather lovely nonetheless. Her red and green printed mistletoe gown seemed to be upholstered rather than sewn, but it could have been worse. She motioned to her own head to acknowledge the prettiness of my hairstyle, and I mouthed a few gracious words in reply.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron's though for no reason at all. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr. Crouch, I suddenly realized, was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by... Percy.

"Oi," I said swiftly under my breath to Ron and the twins. "What the bloody hell is Percy doing here?"

When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harry. Harry took the hint and sat down next to Percy, who was wearing brand-new, navy-blue dress robes that unfortunately matched the color of my gown and an expression of such smugness that I thought it ought to be fined.

"Maybe Weatherby became so consumed with his desire for power than he offed Crouch to take his place," said Fred, shrugging.

"I wouldn't put it passed him," I nodded.

Ron half-shrugged, his eyes still glued on Hermione and Krum. George appeared inexplicably tongue-tied, seeing as he had barley spoken a word since the common room and kept glancing at me from the corner of his eye. It was making me feel immensely uncomfortable.

There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of us. I picked his mine, then said very clearly to his plate, "Chicken, please." And a plate of steaming grilled chicken and broccoli appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked us all to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. I wasn't too terribly fond of mainstream music like The Weird Sisters, I'd never tell the twins, but I had secretly grown rather fond of some of the Muggle music Arthur manages to sneak in on one of their radios. Some band called the Cockroaches... er– no, Beatles... yes, The Beatles had become one of my favorite bands.

The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; the champions led the walk onto the brightly lit dance floor. I could sense Harry's discomfort as Pavarti steered him around the dance floor beside Krum and Hermione and the other four. Very soon many of them too had come onto the dance floor, so that the champions were no longer the center of attention. I looked over to Ron, who looked as if he'd eaten a slug and was quite perturbed about it, and raised my eyebrows, nodding towards the dance floor. I wouldn't have even suggested slow dancing because I loathed the waltz, but Ron and I had suddenly become the only ones left at the table once the others decided to join the festivities.

"Hello, Ronald, _hello_?" I said, snapping my fingers before his glazed over eyes. "Are we going to dance or just sit her all night?

"I don't care," he shrugged.

I huffed loudly and rolled my eyes, yanking him up from his seat to lead him onto the dance floor. I had to awkwardly lead his hand into mine and his other to my waist. As awkward situations go, it was a show stopper. However, after a minute or so, we were swaying from side to side like the others except in a much less romantic manner. Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby - I could see Ginny wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet – and Dumbledore was waltzing with Cassandra. She was so dwarfed by him that the top of her frizzy mop of hair barely tickled his chin; however, they moved very gracefully nonetheless. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg.

"You look positively lovely, Gin," I smiled as I steered Ron over so I could speak to Ginny. "And you look devilishly handsome yourself, Neville."

"Thanks, Winnie," Neville choked, suddenly pink.

"Thanks, and I'd say the same to you, but I'd fear that would be the understatement of the century," she grinned before sporting an expression as if she'd remembered something suddenly. "Oh, did you see Percy?"

I nodded reluctantly as Ron kept his gaze one something or someone over my shoulder, not listening a word.

"What do you reckon he's doing here?" I asked.

"Maybe he offed Crouch–"

"Yeah, we've already established that as a solid possibility," I smirked.

"I dunno," Ginny shrugged. "I don't really care to go ask him."

"I might," I said humorously. "You know how I am ever so fond of awkward situations. I mean, look at me now."

Ginny snorted a laugh at Ron's hand on my waist. We slowly became separated for the remainder of the song as many more couples began to join in.

"I actually don't mind this song, " I said indifferently as the Weird Sisters struck up a new song, which was the much faster.

"No, I don't like it," said Ron dispassionately, and he led me away from the dance floor, past Fred and Angelina, who were dancing so exuberantly that people around them were backing away in fear of injury, and over to the table where Harry and Pavarti were sitting. I looked jealously at my friends who looked as if they were having a good time, even George with Alicia. I caught his eye and he smiled in an almost sad manner towards me for just a moment before I hastily turned away.

"How's it going?" Harry asked Ron, sitting down and opening a bottle of butterbeer.

Ron didn't answer. He was glaring at Hermione and Krum, who were dancing nearby. Pavarti was sitting with her arms and legs crossed, one foot jiggling in time to the music. Every now and then she threw a disgruntled look at Harry, who was completely ignoring her. Within a few minutes, I was asked to dance by a boy from Durmstrang whose name I couldn't understand let alone pronounce.

"No thanks, chap," I said gently, shaking my head at his extended palm. "I wager she might though."

I nodded at the bored-looking Pavarti who now looked as if she'd gotten her second wind.

"You don't mind, do you, Harry?" Parvati said.

"What?" said Harry, who was now clearly watching Cho and Cedric.

"Oh never mind, thanks, Winnie," said Parvati in an annoyed and then relieved tone, and she went off with the boy from Beauxbatons. When the song ended, she did not return.

"I feel like I'm in a whirlwind of poor tidings," I said in an exasperated tone. "I swear, I'm surprised the both of you haven't started handing out lumps of coal."

Neither of them responded or even acknowledged I had spoken. I was relieved when Hermione came over and sat down in Parvati's empty chair. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing. Lucky, minx.

"Hi," said Harry and I in unison. Ron didn't say anything.

"You look gorgeous, Winnie, really you do," she beamed.

"That's thanks to you and your fashion sense," I grinned. "You look absolutely beautiful yourself, Granger. Are you having a good time?"

"Oh yes! But it's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktors just gone to get some drinks."

"Viktor?" said Ron, giving her a withering look. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"

Hermione and I looked at him in surprise.

"What's up with you?" she said.

"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione stared at him, then at me, I shrugged.

"Ron, what–?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You – you're–" Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's mouth fell open as well as mine.

"Don't be so stupid!" she said after a moment. "The enemy! Honestly – who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

Ron chose to ignore this for good reason.

"I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?" asked Ron.

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened – trying to get him to join spew, were you?"

"No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he – he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same color as Alicia's gown.

"Yeah, well – that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"Ron, shut up," I warned. He pretended he didn't hear me.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" asked Hermione.

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with… He's just trying to get closer to Harry – get inside information on him – or get near enough to jinx him–"

"Ron..." I breathed, taken aback by how rude he was being. "You're being ridiculous."

Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. When she spoke, her voice quivered.

"For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one–"

Ron changed tack at the speed of light.

"Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions–"

"I'd never help him work out that egg!" said Hermione, looking outraged. "Never. How could you say something like that – I want Harry to win the tournament. Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"

"You've got a funny way of showing it," sneered Ron.

"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" said Hermione hotly.

"No it isn't!" shouted Ron. "It's about winning!"

People were starting to stare at them.

"Ron," said Harry quietly, "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum–"

But Ron ignored Harry too.

"Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," said Ron.

"Don't call him that!"

Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron watched her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face. I turned to Ron with a partially furious partially disappointed expression.

"Someone needs to go after her," I said coolly to Ron. "It's either going to be me or you. If it's going to have to be me then I'm not coming back and I'm leaving you to sulk by yourself all night."

"Go after her then," said Ron, still glaring after Hermione. "You never wanted to go with me to begin with, so just go after your little whiny, treacherous friend."

"You should have been born a girl, Ron," I frowned, "because you've been acting as if you've got an overdose of estrogen in your system for much too long."

The crowd was much bigger than I gave it credit for. I kept having to jump, nearly falling out of my dress on several occasions as I searched for Hermione. However, after what seemed like an eternity of searching, I noticed a quick flash of Hermione's gown rush outside entrance hall towards the gardens. I had nearly left the dance floor before I was abruptly snatched up by the waist. Graham Montague had me forcefully pushed up against him, firmly holding me squarely against his chest my holding his hand improperly against the lower arch of my back. He gripped my hand in his, literally swaying me about like a mere rag doll. I couldn't pry myself from his grasp no matter how hard I struggled and pushed my free hand against his chest. Everyone was dancing so furiously around us that no one seemed to notice my battle.

"Release me this instant, you great stupid troll," I hissed, trying my damnedest to yank my other hand from his to no avail.

"If you weren't going to give me a dance, McKinnon," he teased, smelling my hair in dementedly sexual manner, "then I was just going to have to take it by force."

"Well, I'm about to _force_ you into a bloody body bag if you don't let go of me at once!"

I nearly vomited when Montague spun me around several inelegant times before dipping me halfway through the song at a dramatic pause. He froze in his dip of me, his face so close to mine that I could smell the liver and onions he'd undoubtedly ordered for dinner. I smelt the slightest hint of mint as if he'd tried desperately not to smell like a rotting dead animal for the evening.

"Tell me, McKinnon, how do you find my breath?" he asked arrogantly.

"Utterly offensive," I sneered up at him. "It's keeping you alive."

I turned my head to the side, closing my eyes and gagging for more than one reason. However, just as I was about to lose the chicken I'd eaten for dinner, Montague received an abrupt tap on his back. He lifted me back to my feet and turned his head to the side to see who had intruded on his territory.

"May I cut in?"

It was George, thank Merlin.

"Yes!" I squeaked over his shoulder.

"Shove off, Weasel," Graham grunted. "She's not your date."

"Nor is she yours," said George fiercely. "Now let me have the rest of the dance because I'm not opposed to hexing you in public. I've done it before, and I'll do it again with pleasure."

"Honestly, Graham, let go," I said, ridiculing him with my mere tone. "Yes, that entails a bit of brain activity on your part, I'm afraid to say. Come on, release those sausage fingers of yours..."

He peered down at me as if I was the stupid one. I'd had enough of waiting for him to just up and let go of me, so opted to just slam my foot as hard as I possibly could atop his monstrous boot. He yelped and hopped up and down for a moment.

"Well, Graham I must admit I've had a perfectly lovely evening," I frowned, "but this wasn't it."

"One day, McKinnon, one day," said Graham as he disappeared into the crowd. "You'll want me–"

"If that sentence ends in – 'committed to an asylum' then you are spot on, mate," I yelled after him, drawing in several looks from surrounding couples.

Then things became a bit awkward. George and I were left standing alone in a room full of people with a fresh song of slow measure beginning to play. George scratched the back of his neck uneasily, looking down at his feet. I chewed the inside of my cheek, suddenly mesmerized by my fingernails.

"So–" George began. "Do you want to... you know–"

"I know you were just helping me get that monkey– I mean, two ton gorilla off my back," I shrugged. "We don't have to if you don't want–"

"–I want to–" said George abruptly before he could help himself. "I mean, but if you don't then we don't–"

"–It's not that I don't want to–" I began. "It's just... well, I imagine Alicia would give you hell."

"Oh, she can piss off," he said in a harsh tone. "She's ran off somewhere anyhow, something about having to prepare for something or other– I don't know, I don't pay attention when she speaks. I don't care if she does get all worked up about it, I want to dance with you, so let's just get on then."

George extended his hand, and I gently placed mine in his. I smiled up at him, feeling as if bats were swarming my stomach. He tenderly placed his hand on my waist, much more graceful than the other two partners I'd danced with. I began feeling guilty. I didn't know if I should feel bad for dancing with him and most likely getting him in trouble with A - short leash – a, or because I was keeping such an enormous secret from him. It was tearing me up inside.

"So where's your date?" asked George, freeing a small smile.

"Probably out making more little girls cry," I sighed, "that and sulking. He got in this huge row with Hermione all because she went to the ball with Viktor Krum."

"He's a prat," said George for good measure.

"That's what I told him," I scoffed, "but he can hardly help it, it's genetic."

"Hey!" said George, laughing slightly and pulling me closer in reply. "Ron and I are nothing alike."

"You're right," I said sarcastically, teasing him. "The red hair, freckles, tall stature, quick temper–"

"I get it," he grinned.

I laughed and playfully slid my hand under his black robe to tickle his side. He flinched and chuckled, trying to get me to stop. He reached down and gently forced both my hands around his neck, pulling us closer so his arms could wrap around my slender frame. I lazily laid my head upon his chest, swaying from side to side to our own tune. I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of his steady heartbeat as he rested his chin atop my head.

"There they are!" a loud familiar voice interrupted just as we were getting comfortable. He had clearly been hitting the cyder a bit too hard judging by his unsteady balance and exceptionally loud voice.

I jerked my head off George's chest in surprise, hearing his teeth chatter against one another because of my abrupt movement. We separated suddenly feeling awkward instead of remaining in the blissful stupor we'd narrowly reached. We could thank Percy for that.

"Percy," I said indifferently.

"I've been looking for you two all night, ran into the others but – _wow_, Win, I barely recognized you," said Percy quickly. "You look so grown-up."

"Thanks," I said, feeling greatly uncomfortable all of the sudden.

"What are you doing here, Perce?" asked George. "Where's Crouch?"

"_Mister _Crouch promoted me," said Percy, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as supreme ruler of the universe. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."

"Why didn't he come?" I asked.

"I'm afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn't well, not well at all. Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising – overwork. He's not as young as he was – though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehavior of that house-elf of his, Blinky, or whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately afterward, but – well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with – that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around – no, poor man, he's having a well earned, quiet Christmas. I'm just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place."

"All I heard out of that nonsense was the 'that revolting Skeeter woman,' to which I will agree with your opinion most wholeheartedly," I said, "though I wish you were so adamant about your distaste for her when it actually mattered... like you know, when she slandered your own dad."

"You are overlooking a wide range of complications, Winifred," said Percy, coolly.

"Sorry, Weatherby, she's not one for details," George teased, suddenly spotting an anxious looking Fred who was motioning towards Ludo Bagman. "And neither am I, it's been really corking to see you, but I have a matter of business to attend to. Winnie, I'll be right back."

To my extreme displeasure, Percy and I were now alone in forced conversation. I looked around for someone to ditch Percy upon so I could finally go after Hermione; Professor Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo Bagman with Professor McGonagall; Madame Maxime and Hagrid were cutting a wide path around the dance floor as they waltzed through the students, and Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen. When the current song ended only a few seconds later, everybody applauded once more, and I nearly died when I saw Ludo Bagman kiss Professor McGonagall's hand and make his way back through the crowds, at which point Fred and George accosted him. I was one of a very select group of people who knew why.

"What do they think they're doing, annoying senior Ministry members?" Percy hissed, watching Fred and George suspiciously. "No respect…"

I rolled my eyes.

Ludo Bagman shook off Fred and George fairly quickly, however, and, which led them to carry on in heated conversation not far from me and Percy. I was so distracted by the twins' audacity to speak to Ludo Bagman in public about their missing Galleons that I barely noticed Bagman approaching the pair of us.

"I hope my brothers weren't bothering you, Mr. Bagman?" said Percy at once.

"What? Oh not at all, not at all!" said Bagman. "No, they were just telling me a bit more about those fake wands of theirs. Wondering if I could advise them on the marketing. I've promised to put them in touch with a couple of contacts of mine at Zonko's Joke Shop…"

"Yes, I'm sure that was just it," I scoffed, earning a nasty glare from Percy.

Percy didn't look happy about this at all, and I was prepared to bet he would be rushing to tell Molly about this the moment he got home. Percy cleared his throat and looked over at me as if to use me to continue his chit chat with Bagman.

"Er– Mr. Bagman, you remember Winnie McKinnon from our brief meeting at the World Cup," said Percy, pushing me forward to shake ole Ludo's hand. I shook his sickeningly clammy hands with my fingers and smiled the fakest smile I could muster.

"Oh yes," Bagman said cheerfully, "Aren't you a pretty little thing... wait a tick, aren't you– of course I can't believe I didn't recognize you before! You're the girlfriend of Puddlemere's new Keeper, aren't you? I've seen you two in the papers on occasion. He's one talented young man from what I've seen. I'd hang on to him if I were you, lass."

"Oh, yes," Percy began before I could respond. "Winnie and Mr. Wood have been seeing each other for quite some time now! What's it been, Win, two – three years?"

"Just over a year actually," I said, annoyed I was still having to make conversation with the least appeasing people in the entire room, "but I really must be going. Nice to see you again, Mr. Bagman – uh, and Percy I suppose."

–

I finally escaped the pompous Percy and made myself available to go speak with Hermione. I'd been distracted for ten minutes, and I had no idea if she was going to still be upset or not. However, I was determined to check the place I'd seen her disappear to in the gardens before I was bothered. Knowing I would regret going out into the snow and cold, I held onto my upper arms with my hands as if that would help, and stepped out outside. Hermione was sitting alone on a bench made of ice that magically exhumed heat, rather wicked if you ask me. I brushed my shirt up under me as I gently took a seat beside her. She quickly turned away, trying to hide the fact she'd been crying and failing miserably. I tilted my head to the side and sent her a fleeting smile until she conceded to look down at her lap instead of looking in the opposite direction of me.

"Ron is a prat," I said confidently. "Don't let him spoil your evening. You look much too pretty to let a couple baseless remarks ruin your night."

"I would never – never!" she suddenly pouted out, bursting into a fit of tears again. "I couldn't – I _wouldn't_ ever betray Harry like that!"

"I know that and so does Ron for that matter," I said calmly, pulling her against me so she could cry on my shoulder, something I picked up from Arthur Weasley when he tried to calm down Ginny as a child.

"But he said–"

"He's said far worse to me before," I interrupted. "Ron just lets his anger get the best of him some – _a lot_ of times – and he doesn't mean what he says. He shouldn't be held accountable for anything that spews out of his stupid gob."

Hermione sniffled loudly, shuddering for a moment before smiling weakly.

"I think the lot of us didn't think out this whole date thing," I went on humorously. "None of us ended up going with the person who we wanted to go with. Harry should have taken someone he actually fancied, you and Ron should have gone together, and I of course should have gone with George–"

Hermione's eyebrows raised so high I swear they touched her hairline. I choked out several monosyllabic objections before forming proper words again.

"I meant _Oliver_," I said, laughing it off. "I don't know why I said that."

But I_ didn't, _and I_ did._

–

After calming Hermione down to a presentable level, I opted to stroll about the gardens for a few minutes. It was almost ten o'clock, the ball ended at midnight, and I couldn't decide if time had flown by or moved at snail's pace. No matter, I couldn't bring myself to go inside the Great Hall just yet. Part of me couldn't bare the sight of Alicia and George dancing in each other's embrace and another part of me couldn't bring myself to admit that was the reason I stayed in the gardens. The fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where I soon found themselves surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. I could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. I pretended not to see anyone I knew and set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes, but I had gone only a short way when I heard an unpleasantly familiar voice, two actually.

"… don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it–"

"Then flee," said Snape's voice curtly. "Flee – I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rosebushes apart, his expression most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her. "And what are you doing, Miss–" he added, catching sight of me on the path ahead. He paused for a moment, gave me the once over as if he barely recognized me, "M– Miss McKinnon?"

"Sir, it's like I told Professor McGonagall the other day," I shrugged slightly. "I think we've known each other long enough to safely say that we both know that you have no intention of believing me even if I told you what I was doing, and you really don't want to know the true answer anyway. Come now, Professor."

"Five points for your sass, McKinnon," he snapped.

"I never thought I'd meet someone with a worse sense of humor than McGonagall," I said to myself, loud enough for him to hear me.

"Shall I make it ten?"

"Might as well," I shrugged coyly. "I always have been fond of even numbers."

Karkaroff looked slightly discomposed to see me there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger.

"Just keep walking, McKinnon!" Snape snarled, and I brushed past them, Snape's long black cloak billowing out behind him from the winter winds. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape. I continued down the path until I knew I was a safe distance. I wondered why the pair of gits were on a first name basis and why Karkaroff was so worried. It was all rather strange, but I couldn't bring myself to add another unanswered question to my list at the moment. I continued walking until I reached a large stone reindeer, over which I could see the sparkling jets of a tall fountain. I climbed atop the stone statue with great difficulty and sat sidesaddle, looking out onto the frozen lake of Hogwarts.

The moonlight shone down upon it giving it a blue glow. I hummed the tune of the current song from inside, quietly audible outside. I was freezing cold, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the beauty of everything around me. A strong shiver show down my spine, visibly causing me to tremble. Then, out of no where, I felt a warm fabric being placed over my shoulders. I jumped and slid of the reindeer, turning about to see who or what had touched me. I gasped at my intruder. It was Oliver, holding his black discarded formal jacket in his arms.

"Oliver?" I breathed. "What in pity's sake are you doing here?"

"What a kind welcome from my girlfriend who I haven't seen in nearly a month," he smirked, "a girlfriend who looks scandalously beautiful I must add."

I strode forward, sliding my arms under his, stealing his body heat. He smiled and looked down at me, pulling his jacket over my shoulders before rubbing my arms up and down to increase circulation. I smiled up at him until he leaned down and kissed me sweetly on the lips. Sliding my arms in his jacket, I stepped back a couple feet to meet his eyes properly.

"But really," I asked sternly. "What are you doing here?"

"My main motive was to make certain you weren't dead," he explained in an exasperated tone. "Though after seeing you sitting outside in the freezing cold I know now that you were well on your way. I wrote McGonagall the other day to see if she could make an exception and let me attend last minute. I had to come straight away after we got back from our scrimmage in Leeds, or I would have come earlier. McGonagall let me use her fireplace seeing as I have to back by midnight for curfew since we have a match tomorrow even if it's just a charity event."

"I'm clearly alive," I smirked. "Who did you think was writing you twice a week, a bloody ghost? Because I know for a fact that Nearly Headless Nick has rubbish handwriting."

"What do you mean twice a week?" Oliver scoffed. "I haven't gotten a letter from you in at least three weeks. Haven't you read my frantic letters? I thought you were ignoring me or was upset with me for some reason."

"Oliver," I began slowly. "I haven't gotten a letter from you since I left your flat a month ago. I just knew this was your busiest month with all your matches, practices, publicity events and charity–"

"Winnie, I can always make time for you," he insisted. "I've written you nearly a dozen times since you left."

"Bloody owl," I groaned. "I bet June is lining her nest with my letters again. I'll ring her adorable little neck. I'm sorry, but I'm so glad you're here now, even if it's only for a little bit."

"Me too," he smiled. "Shall we go inside and have a dance then?"

The quiet melody from inside the Great Hall could still be heard within the confines of the garden. I knew it would be some huge ordeal to bring Oliver into the Great Hall, with old friends pressing him for updates on his life or just ickle first years asking him for an autograph or something. I smiled slyly up at him and took his hands in mine, slowly swaying from side to side. He caught on instantly and slowly pulled me close against him, so I could nuzzle my head under his chin. Oliver hummed the current tune quietly under his breath, his throat vibrated against my forehead. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, smelling the cool night air.

"You know, I had a date to the ball," I said quietly.

"Did you now?" he asked, unconcerned. "Who was the lucky bloke?"

"Ron," I smirked, enjoying the body heat radiating off Oliver's chest. "You should feel utterly threatened."

"Oh, I am," Oliver chuckled lightly, readjusting his arms around me. "Though I was worried there for a second that you were going to tell me it was George and then I'd–"

"Winnie!" called a distant voice, causing Oliver and I to instantly separate. "There you are!"

Angelina led the way, the twins following close behind. She was stumbling all over the place, her heels not as agreeable as they had been a few hours ago. She slammed on her breaks about ten paces from Oliver and I, smiling broadly like a fool. Fred caught up to the long-legged girl and wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her up properly. George was only a few feet behind them, looking extremely disagreeable as soon as he laid eyes on Oliver.

"Someone got into Lee's Firewhiskey stash and got a bit sloshed," said Fred, smirking slightly and nodded towards Angelina. "Hey there, Wood, a bit late aren't you?"

"Yeah, long story," he shrugged. "How are you three, enjoying the ball?"

"Oh, it's just enchanting!" Angelina laughed, gushing like a drunk git. It was rather hysterical. Angelina rarely allowed herself to become this intoxicated. "Fred and I have just had the BEST time."

"That's great, Angie," I laughed.

"Where is Alicia?" asked Oliver sourly, narrowing his gaze onto George as his grip around my waist grew a bit snugger.

"Dunno," he grunted in reply. "I haven't seen her for over an hour."

"I'm SO happy about that too!" Angelina went on in an exasperated tone. "After everything she said to you, Freddie... Merlin, I couldn't bare to look at her! Well, literally too because her dress reflected light as bright as the bloody sun!"

"Shut up, Angelina," I hissed.

"Wait, what is she talking about?" asked Fred, suddenly intrigued.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"Oh, yes!" she said loudly although I think she meant to whisper. "It's a secret, so I will only tell you if you promise not to tell Fred and George!"

"Cross my heart," said Fred, humoring her.

"Angelina, don't!" I objected furiously, striding forward to stop her but it was too late.

Angelina leaned in and whispered the details of my incident with Alicia into Fred's ear. It was loud enough for George to hear as well judging by his close proximity, Angelina's sad attempt to whisper, and just by the slow change in his facial expression. I wrapped Oliver's jacket around me as tight as I could, gluing my eyes to the ground.

"I'll kill her," said Fred indignantly. "Merlin, help me, she'll regret what she said! How dare she say such awful things to you! Where's Ginny? I'll get her to slug the bint!"

Fred was looking around frantically as if Ginny was hiding in the bushes or something. George looked on at me with a shocked expression.

"She really said all that?" George finally managed to choke out. "She called you... I mean, she said all those nasty, awful things to you?"

"Oh, and that's not all!" Angelina gushed. "The tramp cheated on George with that tomcat, Jasper McQueen, when we were in London! They've even been writing to each other ever since! He showed Winnie proof too!"

I couldn't be mad at Angelina. Her idiocy was alcohol induced, and I'm sure if I was that sloshed that I'd have done the same thing. George appeared as if someone had just slapped him clean across the face. His jaw dropped, and I felt like a complete arse. He looked at Oliver for a moment who nodded solemnly in response.

"Why didn't you tell me?" George breathed. "You should have told me."

"I'm so sorry, George," I said desperately. "I know I should have. I just wanted you to be happy, and knew you'd be so hurt if you found out... I didn't want to be responsible for ruining what you and Alicia have together."

"Why would you ever blame yourself for that?" he said, taking me aback. "Alicia is the only one who has something to apologize for, I could never be angry at you for something like that. And the only thing that hurts is the fact that you apparently don't know me well enough to know that."

"I knew you wouldn't be," I insisted, taking his hands in mine before I could help myself. "That's the point, George, I knew you'd take my side, and I didn't want you to! I just want you and Fred to be happy with whomever you're in a relationship with. I don't want to ever interfere with that. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he said fiercely. "You did nothing wrong!"

We were all so wrapped up in our own affairs that we hadn't noticed that the music from inside had ceased and only a distant murmur of dozens of voice could be heard instead. The ball still had thirty minutes before it was scheduled to come to an end. All of us froze where we stood for a moment, listening to several shrieks from inside.

"Something's wrong," I deducted quietly.

The others silently agreed. I grabbed Oliver's hand and hurried towards the Entrance Hall, the other three behind me. When I reached the Entrance Hall's open doors my breath was immediately stolen from my lungs. The remaining student body within the Great Hall were all climbing atop one another to see what all the commotion was about. On the complete opposite end of the hall from the five of us was what was causing all the upheaval. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Cassandra and Filch were all attempting to no avail to hold back what appeared to be over thirty crazed-looking reporters judging by the attendance of Rita Skeeter and several others I recognized from my first run in with the press. Alicia, strangely enough, was on the side of the professors, Cassandra and Filch but seemed in no way allied with them. In fact, when Alicia spotted me before all the others a wicked smile crossed her pale face before she pointed to me and said "There she is."

"What–" was all that managed to escape my lips before a stampede of notebook holding, photograph snapping witches and wizards overpowered their four opposing forces and darted towards me like bats out of hell.

I didn't have a chance to move, think or even breathe before they surrounded me like flies on honey. They pushed away Oliver from my grasp as well as the twins and Angelina. I instinctively covered my head with my arms as if I was being attacked because frankly, I was. A thousand different voices rang in my ears, some familiar and some unknown. I felt a violent grip suddenly upon my wrist that yanked me upward from my protective cocoon I'd made with my arms. Rita Skeeter was the culprit, forcing my terrified-looking expression to meet her hideously painted face. She held my forearm just above shoulder level as if I was a child about to be punished.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet," she said loudly to drown out the other reporters. "A reliable source recently revealed to the press that you, Winifred McKinnon, have been discovered to attain the gift of Sight–"

"What, who told you that?" I gasped, though I new instantly it was Alicia. She'd thieved my letters and gotten Jasper to intercept my owls from Oliver as well. It all made sense now, the missing letters, Alicia's sudden glances, her closeness with Rita Skeeter.

"Classified information, I'm afraid," said Rita.

I saw Dumbledore, McGonagall, Cassandra and Filch trying to push their way through the crowd of blood thirty reporters to reach me. However, they were greatly out numbered. I even spotted Oliver, Angelina and the twins fighting their way through the group to no avail.

"Winnie!" kept being shouted from my eight allies that were outnumbered over three to one.

"Finding out you're Cassandra Vablatsky's granddaughter must have been a detrimental surprise after losing your parents as a child and being forced to grow-up in poverty–"

"Excuse me?" I breathed. "I was not–"

Her magical quill was writing furiously.

"Your lessons with Cassandra Vablatsky – what has she been teaching you and–" asked a plump wizard with an obvious toupee as he flashed his camera in my face, blinding me.

"That's none of–"

"Have you made any major prophecies?"

"No, and I haven't–"

"What do your powers entail exactly–?" someone else shouted before dozens of others began tossing in their guesses that were supposed to be questions I suppose.

"–mind reading–"

"–tea leaves–"

"–crystal ball–"

"–horoscopes–"

"–palm readings–"

"I'm not at liberty to say–" I stammered, finally pulling myself free from Rita Skeeter's grasp. "I mean, I don't want anyone to–"

After what felt like an eternity, Dumbledore resorted to magic to create a path for me to escape through. Several witches and wizards were pushed to the side like separated bowling pins or something. I didn't hesitate for a moment, rushing forward to meet Professor McGonagall's embrace. I wrapped my arms around her like a frightened child as she quickly led me towards Gryffindor Tower with Cassandra struggling to keep up behind us while Dumbledore and Filch fought back the unfazed crowd. Fred left Angelina in Katie's capable arms and ran up the stairs after Oliver and George. McGonagall looked back at Oliver with an all business expression.

"Mr. Wood, we can manage from here," she said fiercely. "If you want to help then use my fireplace to travel to the Burrow and inform Arthur and Molly Weasley as to the events transpired this evening. I will make sure you are notified to the status of the situation as soon as possible."

"But I–" he objected.

"NOW!" she bellowed.

Oliver swallowed his tongue and met Fred's gaze. Fred nodded as if to tell him he and George would look after me and without another word he darted off towards McGonagall's Office. I don't even remember climbing the countless stairs that led up to the portrait hole. I was numb. Cassandra, McGonagall and the twins were sharing hasty words, and I couldn't distinct a single syllable besides Cassandra's relentless mumbling something like "I should have seen this, why didn't I see this coming?." The first audible words I made out besides that was just as we reached the Fat Lady.

The plump portrait and her friend Vi were snoozing in the picture over the portrait hole. McGonagall had to yell "Fairy lights!" before she woke them up, and when she did, they were extremely irritated. We climbed into the common room and found Ron and Hermione having a blazing row. Standing ten feet apart, they were bellowing at each other, each scarlet in the face. Harry stared on with a helpless expression along with a couple nosy first and second years, not to mention Alicia, who appeared to be consumed with a book in her hands. A slightly noticeable amount of sweat could be seen forming on her brow as he chest rose and fell quickly. There was no doubting that she had ran from where she had just been planted downstairs and arrived no more than a few minutes before we had.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger.

"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back. "What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

"TO YOUR CHAMBERS!" McGonagall interrupted, nearly scaring the trio to death for they hadn't noticed any company.

All the current inhabitants of the common room reluctantly began to head towards their separate dorms, Hermione was too infuriated to even notice what was happening as she sprinted up the girls' staircase. Ron and Harry refused to exit at first until Fred and George sent them a glare that would intimidate the gills of codfish. Alicia slowly closed her book and followed suit, however, McGonagall had other plans.

"Not you, Miss Spinnet," she hissed. "I'd like a word with you."

McGonagall released me into Fred's arms so she could grip her hips.

"Oh, Professor, what ever could it be?" she asked innocently.

"Do not play dumb with me, Miss Spinnet," she snapped. "I know what you did to expose Miss McKinnon's gift, and I highly disapprove. Rita Skeeter informed your Headmaster and I that her newest Junior Correspondent gave her a couple dozen letters with information regarding a potential seer within the confines of Hogwarts."

"How dare you steal my personal property for your own gain?" I shouted, jerking myself free of Fred's grasp and striding forward with no fear in my voice. I was shaking with rage.

"I refuse to acknowledge whether or not I did or did not commit the acts you are claiming," she said indifferently.

"Oh, really?" I hissed. "I'm surprised you aren't bragging, prideful and overjoyed with you mission accomplished! Congratulations, Alicia, you have done the one thing that could make me despise you more than I already do, a feat I once deemed impossible! You made me a casualty in your lust for praise, for attention. I wanted neither, but you forced me into the limelight, and now I am incapable of escaping it! You've ruined me in ever sense of the word, and I will never forget it... and neither will you..."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" she scoffed, her lower lip quivering just slightly enough for me to stick my teeth into her faltering confidence. "I– I'm not scared of you."

I instantly stuck out my hands and gripped her cranium for just a quick second, closing my eyes for show. I jerked her head slightly as if my power hand overtaken me just before I released her, reopening my eyes with a vengeful expression. I may not be able to read emotions yet, but she didn't need to know that.

"Oh, yes you are," I grinned wickedly as if I'd just seen into her inner most soul. "I am the seer after all, and you have no idea what I am capable of."

Alicia swallowed hard and tried to compensate for her trembling by standing up inhumanly straight.

"Cassandra, why don't you go and see to Professor Dumbledore? I am certain he could use some assistance," said McGonagall, suddenly regaining charge of the situation. "Miss Spinnet, follow me to my office if you please."

Alicia huffed loudly and crossed her arms like two year old on the verge of a tantrum. I turned my back to hurry up to my bedroom, but I paused just as Alicia took her first reluctant step forward.

"Oh, and one more thing," I pulled back my arm and punched her square in the nose causing blood to instantly begin to seep every which way. I grinned and took a deep breath as if a million pounds had been lifted from my shoulders. I met the others' shocked eyes and shrugged simply. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

"Do what?" said McGonagall with an indifferent expression. "I saw nothing."

"Professor!" Alicia cried indignantly.

"Why, Miss Spinnet, what ever happened to your nose?" said McGonagall, no concern or emotion in her tone. "You should probably see Madam Pomphrey before you retire for the evening. However, now is not that time, so off we go."

Alicia held her nose between her two hands, her painful tears mixing in with the thick blood upon her pale cheeks. She had taken just a step or two past George after McGonagall and Cassandra when George stopped her.

"I know this is probably the most redundant statement of the century," he began viciously, "but just so we're clear as crystal, you and me... we're over, done with, kaput. Fred, any other useful synonyms that fit your fancy?"

"I believe you're forgetting ended, finished, and settled," said Fred, pointing his index finger into the air and not missing a beat.

"Thanks, mate," said George, nodding to his brother. "Anyway, you get the picture."

"But, George–"

I didn't bother to listening to another word, choosing to dart up the staircase instead. I couldn't have physically gotten there faster if I apparated. I frantically pulled out my large messenger bag, cast an internal enlarging charm and began stuffing in everything in sight. I didn't know where I was going, all I did know was that Hogwarts was the last place I wanted to be at that moment. I didn't want to go to Oliver's, to the Burrow, to anywhere I typically inhabited. I needed to be away from everything for awhile, clear my head before all the strides I had made forward would become nonexistent. A place suddenly entered my mind, a place I'd never been, a place I had never wanted to visit before now. However, at that moment there was no other place I'd rather be.

I plucked up the initially snoozing May up off my bed and gently set her inside my bag, her head sticking out the top. I glanced over at June's open cage.

"Follow me as close as you can manage," I told her. "If you lose track of me then head back and stay with Ginny."

She blinked her enormous eyes to signal to me she understood. She fluttered out and perched herself upon the open windowsill, waiting on queue. I kicked off Katie's heels and slid on my chucks, shoving on my winter coat over my dress that I forgot to remove. I hung my messenger bag over my shoulder and pulled open my closet, snatching my broom. I had just mounted my Nimbus 2001 when the twins sprinted into the room, their Sex Switching Soles hanging off the edge of their dress shoes that led me to believe they'd probably slapped them on in a hurry that was unimaginable.

"Stop!" George shouted, stumbling slightly. "Freddie, don't leave!"

"I have to, George, at least for while," I frowned regretfully.

"Then we're coming with you," said Fred swiftly. "Let us get our brooms–"

"No, you don't deserve to bare this burden," I insisted. "You saw what happened tonight, it's only going to get worse before it can even think about getting better."

"Freddie, don't let Alicia's stupidity force you into this," said George desperately.

"This has nothing to do with Alicia and everything to do with me," I sighed. "I'm sorry again, George, I really am."

"Wait!" he shouted, springing forward to stop me, and just managing to grab my jacket for only a second before I sped off into the darkness with June following close behind me.

He and Fred looked at one another with stunned expressions, neither entirely sure of what had happened to their moderately boring nights. George was the first to speak, knowing Fred was about to breathe the same statement.

"Get the brooms," he said fiercely. "We're going after her."

–

_**Happy Late Christmas!**_

–

_**A/N: **__No big deal, it's not like I just wrote an over 20,000 word chapter or something crazy like that. I had some heavy book moments, so I figured I'd try to even it out by writing more original stuff. Well, I went a bit insane apparently. This didn't turn out as epic as I planned, but I'll try to sort things out next chapter. Everything happened fast, and it was meant to. The girls' gowns have visual aids on my profile page. Shout outs will return next chapter as well! Help me reach 380, and I'll update much quicker && thanks for all the wonderful ones I received for this past one=)_

_**PS:**__ No joke, I plan on concluding Part II very soon. There is not all that much more I wish to include besides a few detrimental events that will lead us into Part III which will be an unnerving, satisfying and exciting sequel that I am most anxious to begin writing. A lot of shit is going down in Part III that will make Winnie who she is destined to be. Just wait and see. _

_**PSS:**__ Thanks to __WhatsGoingOn__ for reminding me to update in a hurry, haha!_

_**BTW:**__ Sorry about the undoubtedly countless typos. I'll fix them ASAP._

_**Coming Soon: **__Winnie reaches her destination and sorts everything out, the media goes haywire, George and Fred chase after their best friend, George and Winnie sort things out about Alicia, Winnie has her first prophecy, the second and third task, Alicia gets what she has coming, Winnie begins to deal with her new found celebrity status much better than Oliver apparently, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Review.**_


	12. Chapter 11: The Seer Sighted

_**Chapter Eleven**_

_The Seer Sighted_

–

_He who doesn't fear death  
dies but only once._

–

Whomever tells you that flying on a broom in the dead of winter is an easy feat then there you've found yourself a liar, or a madman. I would have merely flown to the Hog's Head and used Charlie's fireplace for a quicker trip, but it wasn't under his noble care anymore. Charlie had always had a silent partner, but he never spoke of him until recently when he found himself in some hot with some people with even hotter heads and well, our old friend sort of slipped into the night and hasn't been seen since. His co-owner and now full-time proprietor, Abe, was slowly allowing us to grow on him, but I didn't want to push my luck by asking to use his facilities in the middle of the night. Instead, I flew. I knew very well it would be a couple hours before I reached my intended destination, after all I did have to cross a patch of ocean for goodness sake, but I didn't mind the cold as long as the snow held off for a bit longer.

I was traveling to someplace I'd been and never been at the same time, the cemetery where my Mum was buried. I'd wanted to, mind you, but I always thought it was a silly thing to do. I mean, it's not like I could talk to her and get a response, it's not like she could hear me, so what was the point? Flowers would die upon her plot and only litter the grave, and I couldn't even apparate yet to easily get there. Molly and Arthur had offered on several occasions to take me, but I refused. I always saw it as an insult to them. They were in every definition of the word my parents, so why would I make them go out of their way to bring me to a hole in the ground to pay my respects to someone who wasn't even around to hear them? That sounds cold, but I'm just being realistic. I wish to high heaven I could still have my Mum, but I know that's a foolish childhood dream. However, for some reason unbeknownst to me, I was drawn there. I couldn't bring myself to face Molls and Arthur at the Burrow (and Percy for that matter), I didn't want to go to Oliver's for fear the press would find me, so I had one option in my back pocket that I'd never sought out before. I was going to the very place I spent my last hours under the care of my blood relatives, I was going to Little Langley in Killarney, Ireland.

To say my bare legs were numb would be a severe understatement. They were blue, ice nearly coating my pale skin. The winds were stronger than I had anticipated, and I nearly toppled from my broom on more than one occasion. I had to hand it to June for managing to keep up with me for most of the way, though the little bugger had to latch onto my broomstick once I reached the southern shores of Ireland because the winds were really doing a number on her. I noticed May sit up and poke her head out from my messenger bag to offer room to the tiny avian within its cozy confines to which she graciously accepted without a moments hesitation. I wished I was small enough to crawl inside as well. Most would expect that I spent my hours in the air doing nothing but thinking about what had happened at the ball, seething over Alicia's betrayal, or imagining how my life would change from now on. However, my mind was completely blank. I kept my gaze utterly straight, occasionally picking out constellations I remembered and trying to see if I could figure out how horoscopes work accordingly. I failed, but it kept my mind off such things I had no power over.

I didn't need a map or require an enchantment on my broom to navigate my way to where I wished to go. The trip was engraved in my mind like some sort of innate species. I was a bird, flying free, flying home. I neared the hilltop that was surrounded by a small forest of trees, encircling the cemetery within. My Mother had taken me there only once before to show me where her grandparents were laid to rest. I found it chilling as a child, even in the daylight, the overhanging branches from the numerous trees seemed to block out most of the sunlight besides a few dwindling rays. When I dismounted my broom and managed to get my legs to regain feeling once more I discovered the area to be just as unnerving as before. The moonlight replaced the sun, but everything otherwise looked the same. The trees were slightly larger from the passing seasons and several more graves had joined the prior two but no less eerie.

My chucks made quiet crunching sounds upon the already settled opaline blanket of snow. A three foot or so tall black metal fence housed the departed souls within. The moonlight seemed to escape through the tree branches just enough to illuminate the headstones, and I think it was structured to do just that. The blue light drew me closer, pushing open the metal door to unhitch the latch. There were nine grave sites, four in the back and five in the front. My Mum was in the center, Abby to her left and the rest were too covered with snow too make out their engravings. I ignored the freezing conditions and knelt down on my knees and stared directly at the eerily beautiful headstone. There were carvings of roses around the entire stone and a picture of her in the middle above her engravings. I looked so much like the picture of her that I nearly stopped breathing, the icy breaths before my lips ceased for only a second.

MARLENE ROSE MCKINNON

_Now thou art gone to rest  
And this shall be our prayer  
That when we reach our journey's end  
This glory we may share_

May poked her head out from my bag behind me and silently crept beside me and it seemed fitting that she be by my side, seeing as she was the last time my Mum saw me. She plopped down next to me, looking slightly up at me with an almost understanding expression, if cats had expressions that is. She nuzzled up next to me, purring against my graying skin. I looked around over my shoulders as I was being watched before I spoke.

"'lo Mum," I said, cringing as I did so. "This is completely idiotic, I'm talking to an inanimate object. What's wrong with me, May?" I turned my head downward to the side and caught May's eyes, "and now I'm talking to a bloody cat. I don't know which is more embarrassing."

I sighed heavily, a cold puff of air visible before my shivering lips. Then, I swear on my life, snow began to fall slowly from the sky above as if by some cosmic being was cleansing the earth, and myself as well. I swallowed hard and turned back to May once again.

"That was just a coincidence," I told her and as I did it began to snow much harder. My dry sense of humor showed its true colors as I gritted my chattering teeth, "Funny, very funny."

I smirked upon the headstone of my fallen Mother, and I could have sworn I saw the moving picture upon her grave wink at me. The cold must have really gotten to my head. I swallowed hard and conceded.

"Alright, I guess it couldn't hurt," I shrugged, looking down at May again as if she could respond. "Well... I er– hi there Mum, it's Winnie... um, your daughter. Remember me? Yeah, a course ye do. I lost most of my Irish droll so maybe you don't recognize my accent... or er– voice... but well, I was three when we last saw each other so I guess I would sound a bit different in thirteen years anyhow. I'd hope at least."

I snorted an awkward laugh and nudged May as if she was one of the twins and I was desperately trying to make a very unfunny joke funny. When May sent me a blank stare in reply I uneasily cleared my throat and decided to go on.

"Right," I began again. "I know I haven't been around much over the years... er– well, at all really. Sorry 'bout that. I've just been scared to see you, your grave I mean. It sort of makes the whole you being gone real – not like it wasn't before b-but– I dunno how to describe it. I'm no good with words. Molly used to tell me I'm about as good with eloquent sentences as she is at Quidditch. That's not very good in case you were wondering... you probably weren't. Oh! I didn't even tell you – I live with the Weasleys. Dumbledore and McGonagall brought me there on the last night you... er– well, the last night you were alive. I love it there, honestly. Molly and Arthur are great to me, always making me feel like one of the family and such. Molly had the baby she was pregnant with when you were still... around. His name is Ron, and she finally had a girl after him. Her name is Ginny, and we share a bedroom most of the time. Things can be rather snug around the Burrow and there may be a time or two when money is short, but they're always rich with love."

I shuddered suddenly, realizing that I was stupidly kneeling in snow in the middle of a storm. I was losing the feeling in all my limbs and I was becoming very sleepy, but I ignored my symptoms of what I decieded was most likely hypothermia and carried on.

"Um, I'm sixteen by the way," I said frigidly, my jaw locking from the cold. "I'll graduate next summer – from Hogwarts of course. I'm a Gryffindor, like you... I think at least. I do pretty well in school actually. I'm pretty talented in Transfiguration, Charms and in Defense Against the Dark Arts. My best subject is Divination though, but I'm not taking it any longer. Professor Trelawney – my Divination professor – called me a prodigy, and I suppose it was true. You know, because I'm a Seer after all. Yeah, I got it from Dad's side of the family apparently. How is Dad by the way–?"

I stopped myself, hearing how moronic I sounded asking a piece of rock anything but a rhetorical question. May looked up at me with an expression that would have surely insulted my intelligence if I was a cat. The one unfrozen portion of my mouth curled up into a half smile before turning back to the headstone.

"Silly question, sorry," I said, my voice shaky from the icy air. "Oh, right, me being a Seer and all... I was pretty against it at first, but I warmed up to the idea after some encouraging from Fred and George in addition to some reasoning from Oliver... oh, yeah, I forgot about 'em. He's my boyfriend... he's good 'n all, but back to the whole Seer thing. Cassandra Vablatsky – Dad's grandmother – she's been helping me control it and everything. I'm pretty good at it, Ma, and Cassandra thinks so too. I started taking lessons from her with hopes that I could maybe prevent more incidents like... er– the ones that happened to you and them."

I stopped and looked around to the other graves as if they were eavesdropping.

"I didn't want anyone besides my close friends and family to know about me though," I went on quietly, feeling my tongue go numb and developing a slight speech impediment in response. "I'm not one for the spotlight, you understand. However, to my utter dismay, this wretched girl – who George dated by the way – intercepted some of my letters to my boyfriend and every reporter in Europe seemed to show up and crash the Yule Ball, which don't even ask me about that disaster. That's what's brought me here, Mum, I had to get away from all the flashbulbs and shouting press representatives. I know it's stupid, but I didn't want to be anywhere else but with my Mum when everything started to fall apart."

I noticed everything began getting a bit hazy, but I blinked my eyes a few times to somewhat correct my vision.

"I'm not going to stop my lessons with Cassandra," I said, barely above a whisper."The rest of the word can bugger off because I'm going to use this power for good, but I'm not going to become some sort of fortune teller or anything. I'm only using this gift when needed. I know I'm going to be flooded with idiotic requests for palm readings and such from my classmates, but I'm just going to ignore it. I'm done being irrational about this kind of stuff. I was far too overwhelmed when I first discovered my power, but I've grown-up since then, and I'm stronger now. I'm not afraid anymore. I figure... I've never doubted myself before, so why start now, you know?"

My head began feeling as if I was underwater as I fell forward a bit before catching myself. It was so cold, but I had to grin and bare it because I had no shelter to take until the morning light came, and I could find an inn somewhere to house me. Blinking again, I went on.

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this, it's not like you can hear me anyway," I said as the snow slowly ceased. "I guess it just makes me feel a bit better to hear it all out loud. I just needed to get away from that chaotic place for awhile. I find that comforts me, helps me keep a cool head. I was just about to lose it back at Hogwarts, but now that I'm away I feel better even though I'm bloody freezing. You couldn't go 'n get yourself buried in Aruba, now could you? Sorry, only joking. I do that a lot, joke around I mean. I think I get it from Fred and George – they're still my best mates by the way, but I bet you could guess that – but maybe I got my sense of humor from you. I don't really remember much of you, Mum, and I'm so sorry for that. I wish I could, but I just can't. Sometimes I feel like I'm a jigsaw puzzle, and I've worked for so long piecing every little bit of cardboard together until you can nearly make out what the image is, but I'm missing a couple intricate pieces that have been lost in the seat cushions. Er– I guess I'm worse at analogies than I am at eloquent sentences."

I heard a sudden deep barking in the distance from undoubtedly a pet of a nearby farmer that spotted someone snooping around on their property. May's ears instantly perked up, but she remained perfectly still beside me.

"I better go now, Ma," I sighed. "I'd like to think of this as a pleasant visit, so I'd prefer to avoid being mauled by a ruddy dog. I'd be lying if I said I'd visit more often now, but you know me, Mum. I'm not one for mourning over graves, it's just not who I am and neither were you from what Molly's told me, so I won't give out any false promises. You taught me that, about cherishing promises 'n all. I will come again though, at least once. I cross my heart."

I crisscrossed my thumb across my chest and took to my feet with great difficulty. Once I got to my feet, I struggled to move. The world began to spin as I glanced back at the remaining graves, nodding my respect as they swirled with great fury before my eyes. I collapsed forward onto my stomach, pushing myself onto my elbows but only managing such a feat for a minute or two. The dog's bark echoed in my ears. I pulled myself up only to collapse beside the snow-covered grave on her left. I lazily lifted my hand and pushed away the snow with my blue palm.

GIDEON FREDERICK PREWETT

_Carry laughter with you,  
__wherever you may go._

Which meant that the grave next to it... I stretched as far as the remaining strength within me would allow and brushed away the snow upon the adjacent headstone.

FABIAN GEORGE WEASLEY

_Someone once defined humor as  
a way to keep from killing yourself.  
I keep my sense of humor and I will never die._

Why were Gideon and Fabian beside my Mum while my Dad was no where in sight? I shouldn't have instinctively thought of that. I should have been worried about myself catching hypothermia from being outside in freezing temperatures, but I seemed at ease with falling asleep just there. I was so tired, I figured that to be a symptom of freezing to death, but I was so tired from so many other aspects of life as well. The snow was ever so comfortable, and I began feeling warm the more I gave into its charm. I didn't want to die, really I didn't. I wanted to climb to my feet and sprint to my broom and find the nearest house with a chimney, however, my body had other plans. I saw May looking down at me before she ran off, probably smart enough to find a warm shelter.

I was so tired, did I already mention that? Closing my eyes, I didn't see the typical black from inside my eyelids. No, I saw all white as opaline and enchanting as the snow I laid upon. I always thought that whole white light thing was bullocks. I guess that must mean I was drifting away. It wasn't so bad, dying. It was like I was giving in to my exhaustion and about to just take a nap and never wake up. I tried to yell for help, but my efforts were futile. Who would hear me anyhow?

_I laid face down, listening to the silence. I was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. I was not perfectly sure that I was there myself. __A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to me that I must exist, must be more than a disembodied thought, because I was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore I had a sense of touch, and the thing against which I laid existed too. _

_Almost as soon as I had reached this conclusion, I became conscious that I was __I was barefooted, and could feel that I was wearing a gown with long flowing sleeves, made of the most comfortable cloth that had ever graced my skin__. I wondered whether, as I could feel, I would be able to see. In opening them, I discovered that I did indeed have eyes. I didn't need a mirror, because I knew they remained my father's._

_It was like I could see myself, looking down upon my lonesome body, laying upon the ground. It was beautiful in a you're dying sort of way. I curiously looked about to find no one. Sighing for whatever reason, I figured I was in some sort of purgatory. Did this decide if I was going to heaven or hell? The jury was still out on that one._

_I laid in a bright mist, though it was not like mist I had ever experienced before. My surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which I laid seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be. _

_I sat up. My body appeared unscathed and far from the blue coloring it had become during my last moments. I touched my face. I was alright, or not at all..._

_I turned slowly on the spot, and my surroundings seemed to invent themselves before my very eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. I was the only person there, except for – _

"_Ma?" I breathed._

_She bore no injuries or scars from her existence. She was perfect, she was beautiful. Her hair was the same length as mine, her height a bit taller, and her eyes as green as emeralds. She smiled gracefully and cupped my face in her hands. I was in such a state of shock that I couldn't move at first. When I finally realized what was happening, I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around her with intentions of never letting go._

"_Winnie, me beautiful child," she beamed in her thick Irish tongue that I'd forgotten she'd had. "You're all grown-up now, ye are. Molly 'n Arthur 'ave raised yeh up right I see, saints they are."_

"_How–" I breathed. "Am I dead?"_

"_Ah course yer not," she smirked as if I should have known. "It's not yer time, yeh are too strong tah let a wee bit-ah frost get tah better-ah yeh." _

"_But you're dead," I said dumbly._

"_Ay," she smirked, and nodded again as if I declared the sky blue, "but since when does that make me any less alive?"_

"_Then that would mean... I'm dead too," I concluded slowly._

"_Close to," she smiled wisely, "but hardly at all."_

"_I don't understand," I said._

"_Nor are ye meant tah, chile," she smiled, examining my face as she used to when I'd go and hurt myself. Though now I think she was just appraising me as if to remember every inch of my body before she lost me again. "It's all in yer head, it is."_

"_Then this is all a dream?"_

"_Ah course it is," she said as if I'd just won the jackpot or something. _

"_Then you're not real," I said slowly._

"_Now who said that?" she laughed. "I'm as real as yeh are."_

"_Yeah, that's not exactly the most convincing argument, Mum," I smirked. "You said yourself that this all is happening inside my head."_

"_Precisely," she exclaimed happily, "but why would that mean it's not real?"_

"_You sound like–"_

"_Dumbledore?" she smirked. "I should, considerin' it was 'em who firs' told me that when I was jus' a lass. I'd fallen asleep in 'ol McGonagall's class, 'n she sent me to 'em tah give me a piece-ah his mind, after she gave me a piece-ah 'ers first, ah course."_

"_Of course," I smirked all-knowingly. "Well, now that we've concluded that you're really a not real, real person..."_

"_Ah, I reckon yeh would like tah know why yer here then?"_

"_That would be nice," I said._

"_I can't tell yeh, 'm afraid," she said sadly. "I'm just supposed tah keep yeh occupied before yeh go back."_

"_I am going to wake up then?"_

"_I see yer listening skills 'ave not improved much since yeh were a toddler, eh?" she teased without really teasing. _

"_But I was so cold," I explained, holding my arms as if I was still freezing. "I was sure that I was going to..." I drifted off and remembered exactly the last images I saw before I lost consciousness were. "I was talking to your headstone."_

"_I know, I 'eard yeh," she smiled, nodding. "Molly was right, yeh don't exactly 'ave a way wit' words, but I can tell yeh 'ave a way wit' everything else. I already knew yeh were doing well 'n all, I never stopped watchin' yeh. I know yeh hate cliches, but I'm tellin' yeh tah truth. I'm proud-ah yeh, daughter."_

"_Thanks, Mum," I smiled shyly. "I'm proud of you, too."_

"_Now what would yeh go being proud-ah me for?" she chuckled._

"_Because you... you died protecting me," I explained uneasily._

"_Winnie, dyin' is easy, living... now, that's hard," she said confidently. "I should 'ave killed Travers. Merlin knows tah bastard deserves it. I gave in tah grim reaper, but I know yeh will never do that."_

"_You fought so bravely!" I objected. "You gave everything you had, but you were outnumbered!"_

"_Molly told yeh that, did she?"_

"_Yeah, but not just her," I said hurriedly._

"_I could 'ave done more, I should 'ave done more," she frowned. "I was fightin' fer more than jus' me, I was fightin' fer yeh too."_

"_And you saved me," I said firmly. "I live because you died for me."_

_She looked at me as if she had never seen me before, not really at least._

"_I s'pose ye do, don't yeh?" she held my face in her hands in a way so familiar and unfamiliar that I couldn't bare it. "Then keep on livin' fer you 'n me both, child."_

"_I will, Mum," I said, and I meant it._

"_Oh, I almost forgot," she said, suddenly having a revelation. "Yer father sends his love. He wanted tah be tah one tah be 'ere wit' yeh, but it's not up tah 'em, 'n only one-ah us can be 'ere at a time, ye understand."_

"_No, but that's alright," I replied, slightly humored. Then I remembered the question I'd asked myself before I passed out or away or whatever I passed to. "Ma, why were Gideon and Fabian Prewett buried next to you instead of Dad?"_

"_Because yer da' is as stubborn as a horse's arse, 'e is," she said, leading me to believe this had been an on-going debate even into the afterlife. "All his ancestors 'ad been cremated 'n he insisted on following suit fer traditional purposes." She leaned in closer as if someone were to overhear us, "Though I don't think there was enough-ah 'em tah perform a proper burial any 'ow. Then when Travers went on 'n destroyed our house 'n Abby 'n Caradoc's before tah bastard reached yer gran's it was too late tah save his remains. He burned again wit' tah rest-ah tah house, serves 'em right fer being so ruddy stubborn, if yeh ask me."_

"_But Gideon and Fabian," I went on, dissatisfied by he long winded answer. "Why weren't they buried in some big cemetery with the rest of their family?"_

"_But they were buried wit' their family," she said, eyeing me as if I had just asked her the most ridiculous question imaginable._

"_They're buried by you and Aunt Abby and Gran and–"_

"_I know," she said simply. "They were as much-ah me family as me 'n Abby 'n me Da 'n Ma were tah them, jus' because we didn't share tah same blood didn't make us any less family. Yeh know that firs' hand."_

"_I do, but I mean... it's different, isn't it?" I asked. "I know about you and Gideon. You two... I mean, you were soul mates." She tried to interject something that I already knew involved her love for my Father, but I shook my head fiercely to show her it was alright for me to know. "It's alright, Ma, I understand. You should be buried beside the one you love above all others."_

"_I love Gideon, tis true," she said, "but I was never unfaithful tah yer father, never think I was."_

"_I know, Mum, I know," I said, realizing afterward that she had used the present tense to describe her feelings for Gideon rather than the past._

"_I will always love, yer father," she said sternly, "because 'e gave me you. I'm lucky 'cause, I was jus' about tah sack 'em all together before I found out I was pregnant wit' yeh."_

"_Oh, Merlin, it was me–" I began in a panicked tone. "I was the reason you and G–"_

"_Oh, fer pity's sake, child," she said, firmly holding me by my shoulders and looking me square in the eye. "I didn't mean it that way, so don't go gettin' all worked up fer nuttin'. Yeh were tah best thing that ever happened tah me, 'n I mean that wit' every fiber-ah my being. What I was tryin' tah say was that yeh should treasure tah time yeh 'ave wit' tah ones yeh love tah most. Fer me that was Benjy, Gid, Fabian, Sirius, Lily, James, me kin 'n most of all – you, Winnie. I jus' want yeh tah live yer life tah same way, live wit' no regrets."_

_I nodded, but I don't know if she trusted me or not. She abruptly looked upwards as if she'd just been shouted at. She nodded to an invisible source and sadly turned back to me._

"_I have to go back now, don't I?" I sighed._

"_Yes, daughter, yeh do," she smiled fleetingly. "Oh, before you're on yer way, I best give yeh this er Fay'll kill me. He still hasn't seemed tah grasp that it's impossible tah do tha' twice. Fabian is a lot like his nephew, Fred, if that helps explain his character."_

"_Believe me, I know," I smiled softly. My Mum opened my hand and placed a gold object in my hand and closed my palm around it again. "What is it?"_

"_It's Fabian's old watch that his Ma gave 'em fer his seventeenth birthday," she said. "Gideon 'as one as well, but you'd 'ave to pry that from his cold dead fingers 'n... er– right. Anyways, Fay had taken it off tah night he died 'n they never found it when they were cleaning out his things from his flat. He jus' wanted me tah give it tah yeh tah give tah Molls 'n tell her... tell her tah put it back in rightful hands... or on a rightful wrist, I s'pose would make more sense."_

"_But how will I be able to–"_

"_Hush, child," she said fiercely. "We don't 'ave much time left."_

"_I don't want you to leave me, Mum," I said despondently._

"_Now, who went 'n said I was leavin' yeh?" she smirked, pinching my cheek. "I could never do such a thing."_

"_I- I just– I love you, Ma," I said honestly._

"_I love yeh too, Winnie, 'n I always will," she smiled, tilting my chin up to meet my eyes. "Be safe 'n yeh 'n May keep lookin' out fer each other, 'n keep respectin' Molls 'n Arthur."_

"_I will, Mum," I promised._

"_Oh, 'n, Winnie?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Never take tah twins fer granted," she smiled in a sorrowful way. "They are tah two best things that 'ave ever happened to yeh, 'n don't go forgetting that, not ever."_

"_I could never do such a thing," I smiled._

"_Good, 'n now it's time fer yeh tah wake up. Go on, Win, wake up–"_

"WAKE UP, WINNIE! PLEASE, WAKE UP!"

My eyes shot open, gasping for air. My vision was still hazy, but I could feel again, _really_ feel. I was shaking uncontrollably as the reality of the winter weather hit me once again like a ton of bricks. I felt a dog licking my face, and I instantly recognized it to be Leo. What was Leo doing here? He must have been the source of the bark, but if Leo was here then Cassandra was here, but how did she...

"Thank, Merlin," a familiar voice said.

I blinked a couple more times and saw Fred, George and Cassandra looking over me with terrified expressions.

"I saw her, my Mum," I smiled like a fool.

Fred and George looked at one another as if I had just scared them out their minds. George instantly knelt down and lifted me into a bridal carry. I tried to sling my arm over his shoulder, but I was too weak. My head fell onto his chest like a newborn baby. I should have been in hysterics, but I hadn't felt so alive and content in ages.

"What a lovely evening," I said deliriously, looking up at the stars as consciousness became a struggle once more.

"Yeah really terrific, Freddie, later on we'll get some fluid and embalm each other," said Fred sarcastically from behind.

I ignored him and looked down at my hands and realized there was no watch in my palm, and I didn't really know why I expected there to be one. I tried to focus on what was happening around me with all my might, but it was more difficult than it sounds. Fred was lugging my messenger bag over his shoulder, May in his arms. Cassandra was leaning heavily on her cane as she trudged behind George and myself in his arms. Leo pranced like a pup in front of us as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. I spotted a chimney with black smoke escaping from the top in the distance just before I lost consciousness again, and this time all I saw was _black_.

–

I was warm, so very warm, though after nearly freezing to death a plunge in the Arctic Ocean would feel refreshing. I could hear a distant crackling of flames and faint whispers. I decided that since I was unquestionably alive this go around that I would open my eyes to see where I was now. Slowly but surely I blinked my eyes open. The room was dim from the early waking sun and I estimated that it must still be in the wee hours of the morning. My head was propped up on George's lap as I was sprawled out upon an ancient couch, and I was dressed the sole pare of pajamas I had brought along with me, that were coincidentally George's anyhow. I looked up and saw that George was dozing off upright, his head propped up on his hand while his other hand was carelessly twirling a lock of my hair. I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw Fred with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back, sound asleep in a very uncomfortable-looking chair, his head was over the brim of the chair top and his mouth agape. Cassandra was wide awake and looking deep into the flames of the fireplace before her. Leo and May were curled up beside each other on the floor, June perched atop the mantle in a deep sleep.

"Ah, she wakes," said Cassandra, without looking at me at first.

Fred jolted upright so quickly that I was certain he had swallowed his own tongue in the process. George's eyes opened just as fast as I tried to sit up. He helped me sit upright, and instantly hugged me a bit too tight for my liking. When he released me I rubbed the back of my skull and closed my eyes tight to adjust myself to living again.

"Hi," I smiled innocently.

"We find you half-frozen in the snow, and that's all you have to say – Hi?" said Fred indignantly.

"I never was one for words," I shrugged, smiling.

"What in the name of Merlin's beard were you thinking?" asked George, his voice a bit shaky.

"I guess I wasn't," I admitted. "I just wanted to see my Mum, you know? I just sort of ignored the cold, overestimated my tolerance of it, and I collapsed. I was stupid, and I'm sorry. It was beautiful though, I saw my Mum and I got to talk to her. She was just as I remembered her–"

"Winnie, you were dreaming," said Fred.

"I know," I said happily, "but that doesn't make it any less real."

"Cassandra, I think she needs more of that potion," said Fred, looking at me as if I were insane. "She's talking like a crazy person."

"I think she's never been more sane, Frederick," said Cassandra, smiling to herself. "That ees thee most logical thing I 'ave 'eard een a long time."

"No, I think she stayed in the snow so long that her brain is still defrosting," said Fred.

"How did you lot find me?"

"You were our first official long distance 'Tack Tracker' test subject," said George. "I grabbed one after we slipped on our 'Sex Switching Shoe Soles' just in case you would try and make a run for it without us, and that's what I pinned on your jacket when I tried to stop you in the Tower. It led us straight to you."

"Close enough at least," said Fred apathetically. "Poor weather conditions apparently effects the map's effectiveness, so we'll have to critique it a bit... Oh, yeah, anyway...it was really May and Leo who found you. May darted off and caught Leo's attention and showed us the way into the woods. Cassandra tried to give us directions to go ahead because she couldn't keep up as fast, but it was so dark. She led us back to her house after, and we've been here ever since."

"How did you three meet up then?" I asked.

"Cassandra hid out and waited for McGonagall to leave with Alicia, so she could come speak with us in private instead. She knew you would try and run off, so we told her we'd tagged you," said George. "When she saw what direction you were heading on the map she knew immediately where you were going. She insisted we stay at Hogwarts, but as soon as she left to go tell Dumbledore where you'd gone off to we were already hot on your trail."

"Professor Dumbledore informed me that eet would be fine eef you, Fred and George spend as much of thee remainder of your Christmas holiday 'ere as you like."

"Where are we anyhow?" I asked. "The last thing I remember was a chimney over the hill, and I thought we were going there."

"We did, and we're here now," said Fred. "It's Cassandra's summer house."

"Summer house?" I breathed, "It was right where the house... well, where... you know."

"I rebuilt eet over a decade ago," she said quietly, in a voice that was too shy to resemble Cassandra's normal confident droll. "I was so upset about what I deed when Alboos came to see Olaf and myself... I wanted to do something for you even eef eet was not to take you een with us. Eet ees thee same down to thee last detail, besides thee furniture. I knew you would not want to live een eet again after what 'appened, but I thought eet would mean something to you to see eet rise from thee ashes you 'ave yourself, child. Eet ees yours to do as you wish with eet."

"You mean, you rebuilt this whole house and you're giving it to me?" I breathed.

"Eet was never mine to give," she smiled. "Eet belongs to a McKinnon, eet belongs to you."

Fred and George appeared as breathless and shocked as I did.

"Thank you, Ca–" I began but paused. "Thank you, Grandma."

She smiled broadly and nodded at me.

"Now, we're all very tired, so I am off to bed," said Cassandra as if she hadn't just given me a bleeding house. "You three should as well, don't stay up talking too much longer."

We nodded and waited until she was out of sight and the sounds of her footsteps ceased from upstairs. Fred jerked his head to me.

"So looks like you're never coming home again," said Fred, smiling.

"Of course I am," I insisted. "I would never want to live here. It's my grandparents house, and so many awful memories accompany it. I may sell it to a nice family or something. I dunno, but I don't plan on leaving the Burrow anytime soon. You're stuck with me."

"Too bad," said George sarcastically, smirking.

We sat silently for a moment, wondering where to start really. So many things had happened in the past 24 hours that a starting point was pretty blurry. I knew where I wanted to start even if they didn't.

"George, I'm sorry–"

"For the last time, quit apologizing," he insisted. "You did nothing wrong."

"I should have told you, but I just wanted you to be happy and–"

"I hadn't been happy with Alicia in a long time, if I ever was," he added for good measure. "If anything you did me a favor, she's a bint. You know that better than anyone. Let's just not talk about it ever again. She and I are done, and I couldn't be more relieved. I don't know why I stayed with her as long as I did."

"I have a theory or two," Fred smirked.

"Er– so I can hardly wait to read what all those gits wrote about me," I frowned, trying to change the subject.

"They've already come," said George apprehensively. "_Witch Weekly_ actually raved about you, saying you were an inspiration to young women and all this crazy stuff. _The Quibbler_ worshiped the ground you walked on, and a couple other were actually rather kind because they interviewed some of your friends who were willing to talk."

"And the _Prophet_...?"

"Alicia was their one _un_reliable source," said George, giving me a distasteful look. "You don't have to be a mind reader to figure out that one."

"Let's hear it then," I sighed, clapping my hands together.

Fred picked up the selected article from a small pile behind him and pretended to adjust a pair of nonexistent glasses to adjust. He cleared his throat and began to read aloud.

_SEER SIGHTED_

_By Rita Skeeter_

_Winifred McKinnon comes off as your regular, everyday seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but with with a deep, dark secret. She, my loyal readers, is a Seer. According to a very reliable source, Winifred discovered she had the gift of Sight thanks to a friendly intuition from one of her dearest friends, Alicia Spinnet. _

_Miss Spinnet informed us that Winifred had been stricken with nightmares for an extended period of time before she finally sought out help from her closest friend. Miss Spinnet instructed Winifred to write to Cassandra Vablatsky, world renowned seer and author, for advice. Little did Winifred know that Cassandra Vablatsky was her long lost grandmother who had been separated from her after a tragedy stuck Winifred as an infant that caused her to live her life as an orphan. Our sources say that she has been forced to live her days in a London orphanage, hoping and waiting for a loving family to take her in as one of their own. _

_Maybe now she can see a bright future to bring her out of her squalor. She has been receiving private lessons with her grandmother for some time now, and our source tells us that she intends to use her power to assist the public in anyway they require her, abandoning her own privacy in the process._

_When we reached her current boyfriend, professional Seeker Oliver Wood, for comment he replied that he knew nothing of her powers and was completely surprised by the news. Will this little rift in their four year relationship tear the couple apart, and only a few months before their wedding day? Only Winifred McKinnon could answer such a question and for more than one reason apparently._

_With no other known seers in existence (who are not classified as elderly) the question has been raised to whether this descendent of the Great Mopsus will remain the last seer to walk the earth. A Rita Skeeter exclusive follow-up interview will take place with Miss McKinnon to engage her views on the matter. For now, only Winifred McKinnon knows what the future will hold, for all of us._

My jaw dropped even though I was expecting something so utterly idiotic and factually incorrect. I could barely find a single proper fact, and I felt ill with disgust of the whole thing.

"At least she spelled your name right," George shrugged, sending me a hopeful smile.

"I wish she hadn't," I frowned. "Then maybe no one would know it was me."

"That seems impossible considering your picture is plastered over ever newspaper and magazine in Europe," said Fred, turning the front page so I could see the lovely picture of me being held up by wrist thanks to Rita Skeeter's firm grip.

"Lovely," I sighed, tilting my head up as I collapsed my back against the couch.

"So is Alicia going to be your maid of honor?" asked Fred humorously.

I raised a curious brow.

"You know, to your wedding to Wood?" George teased, catching on. "That is, unless this rift tears apart your wedding plans."

"Bugger off," I laughed, nudging him.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Wood," Fred laughed.

I knew they were trying to cheer me up, and I appreciated it more than words could say. My Mum was right about them, and I loved them for it.

"Thanks," I said suddenly.

"For what exactly?" asked George.

"For being there for me," I said shyly. "You know, through all of the nonsense I've been going through lately. I couldn't ask for better friends, and I mean that."

"Just remember that around our birthdays," said Fred in jest.

"We'll remind you if you forget," said George.

"A lot," said Fred, winking at me.

I smiled feebly up at them.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I am so tired I could just curl up in a bed of snow– oh, wait Winnie's already tried that," Fred joked.

"Yeah, I'm tired too," said George, helping me to my feet. "Cassandra's set up two of the guest rooms for us upstairs. We can worry about when we'll head back to Hogwarts sometime tomorrow and then plot out our revenge against Alicia as well."

"Sounds like a plan," I grinned. "I'll meet you up in a minute, I'm just gonna get my things together."

"Alright," they said in unison, jogging up the stairs.

I knelt down and scratched behind both Leo and May's ears to thank them for their actions only mere hours ago before going to pull out a pair of socks I'd packed to keep my feet warm in the drafty house. I lifted up my soggy jacket from the melted snow, off the top of my messenger bag, and was mildly startled when I head a clanging sound by my feet. Sighing in annoyance, I knelt down to see what I had knocked over. I slid my hand under the chair my things had been sitting on and blindly grabbed onto the fallen object. I opened my palm and took an abrupt intake of air as I did so. It was a gold watch with stars for hands and an engraving to Fabian Prewett on the backside, the same trinket my Mum had handed me just before I _woke up_.

–

_**A/N: **__I wrote this in one continuous sitting if you can imagine that. I randomly got this idea in my head, and I ran with it. I think it turned out sort of lame, but I think Winnie was becoming really caught up in tying up loose ends from her past and this was the best way to get her to move on. I know Marlene's accent is more profound than it was previously, so I may go back and tweak it in the chapters where she speaks. I realized that I wasn't giving her enough depth, and I see Marlene to be very similar to Winnie, so to make her a Mary Sue-type character would be an insult to Winnie herself. Well, I'll wrap some unanswered questions up next chapter if anyone is confused or anything. This was mildly filler except totally not at the same time. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it even though it wasn't all that Winnie/George or Winnie/Oliver heavy. Excuse my ridiculous typos for now, and please, help me reach 415 reviews and I'll update quicker!_

_**PS: **__I didn't have time to do them this chapter, but I SWEAR I will have shout outs again this next chapter. I love them so, but I want to post this before I leave! THANK YOU FOR ALL WHO REVIEWED! I ADORE YOU ALL!_

_**PSS:** In regard to the house thing... no, she's not going to ever live in it. The reason I had Cassandra do that was because I wanted another side of her to be shown, like she's not just this sort of stilted character. She felt bad about what she did, and Winnie never let her elaborate in the beginning. Therefore, Winnie will do something constructive with it eventually but not now. I didn't want it to be made into a huge deal when it was really just an extreme kind gesture._

_**BTW: **I'm plotting out things I am going to have happen in Part III and so on in my head, but I would love some suggestions from you guys (specific stuff). I'm always open to feedback from my reviewers, and because I wouldn't write as much without you all I think I owe it to you guys to incorporate what you personally would like to see occur. Shoot me a review and let me know if there is anything you'd love to see=)_

_**Questions for you:** What did you think of Marlene's character? I worried that she'd come off abrasive, but I really meant for her to be a sort of mix between the twins and a dumbed down bit of Dumbledore._

_**Coming Soon:**__ Winnie's 1__st__ prophecy, 2__nd__ & 3__rd__ tasks, Alicia gets what she has coming, Winnie deals with her celebrity status better than Oliver apparently, Part II concludes, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Review.**_


	13. Chapter 12: The Ginger Flower

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_The Ginger Flower_

–

_The quick fix for fifty enemies is one friend,  
and the cure is two._

–

I sat upon the king-sized bed that Cassandra had designated for me. It was a beautiful room, decorated in deep blues, greens and gold with a flickering fireplace not far from the foot of my bed. I don't think I'd ever sat upon a more comfortable mattress, not even when I was living in the Wood's elaborate home. It felt like a cloud, and I felt like royalty under the shimmering gold curtains held up by the black metal four poster. I couldn't sleep, however, and not just because of the events from the prior day. It was the watch that I had dreamed about, the watch that belonged to Fabian Prewett, that was keeping me awake.

How on earth did I get my hands on it? It was almost unsettling to think of the reality of the situation. I stretched and gently pulled Cassandra's hair clip from my head and placed it on the nightstand beside me so that the pristine curls it had created could fall down my chest. They remained intact for now, but I knew I'd wake up with an untamed mop again. I held Fabian's gold and slightly dented watch in my hands, delicately examining it as if it were about to shatter into a million pieces before my eyes.

"You awake?"

"Christ, George," I gasped, jumping in surprise and nearly flinging the watch across the room. "You scared the bogies out of me."

George had peeked his head through the thick golden curtains probably with at least some intentions of startling me. He climbed up upon the bed without an invitation, sitting cross-legged, across from me. His long-sleeved, faded gray, Irish shirt hung about four inches down my arms. I pushed a curl from my eyes with the shirt dangling over my hands, and he smirked to himself at me.

"What?" I said, laughing slightly at nothing really.

"And Cinderella turns back into a pumpkin," he smiled.

"Shut up, idiot," I laughed, reaching across and playfully shoving him. "Cinderella was never a pumpkin to begin with, she turned back into a maid with two evil step-sisters. Though I suppose I do have two evil twins..."

"I think you're more like Rapunzel," he teased. "You've certainly got the hair."

"Yet I'm sadly missing the tower and the handsome prince," I said, poking the tip of my index finger through the lengthy sleeves.

We sat in silence for a moment, George tore his eyes away from mine. I swallowed hard, and then awkwardly and abruptly coughed. After a minute or two George noticed the shiny gold item in my hands.

"What's that?" he inquired, nodding towards me lap.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," I smiled sadly, carefully handing him the watch.

"Try me," he insisted, surveying the watch in his hands.

"It was your uncle's – Fabian," I said slowly.

"Really?" he replied, keeping his eyes on the watch. "How'd you come upon it?"

"My Mum," I said quietly. "She gave it to me last night. Fabian gave it to her to give to me so that I could return it to Molly."

George looked up suddenly and gaped at me, looking from the watch to me and back again.

"But– but that's impossible," he breathed.

"I know," I agreed, "but there is no logical explanation."

"_Wow_," he mumbled, returning his gaze to the watch in his hands.

I gnawed on my lower lip, gauging his expression for a moment.

"I suppose you think I'm a nutter?" I frowned.

"Well, yeah," he said as if should have known the answer. I swallowed hard and looked away, "but I thought you were long before this, come on now."

I smirked, taking back the watch from his grasp.

"Thanks, G–" I started.

"WINNIE!"

The curtains flew open, letting in the sunlight that had been denied through the thick drapes. It was Molly with Arthur behind her. She thrust open her arms and engulfed me into an enormous hug. I was so shocked to see her that I didn't even hug her back at first. Arthur looked suspiciously over at George as if he had just realized that George and I were too old to share a bed even in a platonic manner. Then he looked to me as if he knew something neither me, George, or Molly did, and _maybe he did_. George climbed off the bed to embrace his father as Molly pulled away and held my face in her hands.

"Oliver told us everything," she said, tearing up. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry you had to go through all that nonsense. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Molls, really," I said, forcing a smile and pulling her hands from my face into my lap. "I am perfectly alright."

"Cassandra wrote us you were alright," said Arthur from over Molly's shoulder, "but you know Molly."

"Hush, Arthur, you didn't protest the idea," Molly scolded, sending him a formidable glare, "and I believe it was you who was handing me my jacket with you already in yours when I suggested we see to Winnie."

Arthur smirked at his wife and motioned for her to scoot over for a moment so he could hug me as well. He petted my hair and placed an affectionate kiss on my forehead. Molly quickly took a seat close beside me upon my bed, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pulling me close against her. She looked to Arthur and George as if to silently tell them to shove off. Arthur peeked over at George and wrapped his arm over his son's shoulder to lead him out.

"Let's go see to your brother," he smiled slightly, affectionately squeezing George's neck.

George closed the door behind them, sending me a final fleeting smile. I nodded my thanks before Molly engulfed me into bone-crushing embrace.

"Oh, Winnie, I was just heartbroken when I heard what happened," she frowned. "I know you didn't want anyone to know about your ability."

"Yeah, things didn't exactly go to plan," I smirked. "It's alright though, Mol, I've sort of made my peace with it now. I'm not scared anymore, and I know now that I am strong enough to handle the situation with everyone knowing about it now."

Molly gave me an appraising look. It was as if she'd just realized I wasn't a toddler anymore, and she didn't know whether to be happy or sad about such a revelation. She tilted my chin up to meet her watery eyes and firmly held my face in place. She leaned her head forward and smiled warmly down at me.

"You're so very much like your mother," she said sadly, her voice breaking. "She'd be so proud of you."

"I know," I said quietly. "I know that now."

"And we're proud of you too, dear, Arthur and I," she said astutely, "always know that."

"I will, Molls," I grinned. "You two have been as good as parents to me for as long as I can remember, and there is nothing I could ever do to repay you, but I intend on spending the rest of my life trying."

"Nonsense," she said, blushing. "You are just as much of a daughter to me as Ginny, and you have nothing to repay because you've already given us more joy, pride and love than we could ever ask for."

I smiled up at her but then looked away. I didn't exactly know how I was going to go about telling her what I needed to tell her, but I knew I needed to.

"Molly, I have to tell you something," I said softly. "I guess it's more _give_ you something, but all the same... it isn't going to be easy."

"Whatever it is, dear, you know you can tell me anything," she said, squeezing my hand.

I heaved a heavy sigh and carefully slid Fabian's watch from my wrist. I took her hand in mine and gently placed the watch in her hand, closing her fingers around it. I instantly laced my fingers in my lap and looked away from her. Molly slowly reopened her hand and gasped instantly when she recognized the object's identity. I felt her eyes burn upon my skin, looking back and forth from my face to the watch at hand.

"W– Where did you find this?"

"Someday, when I myself better understand how it happened or what exactly happened then I'll give you a more detailed explanation," I said quietly, and before Molly could ask the next question that I knew she was going to ask I interrupted her, "but for now, all I can tell you is Fabian wanted you to have it. I know because he told me so... last night."

She seemed to literally swallow her own words as she looked on at me with a terrified expression.

"That is not a very funny joke, Winnie," she breathed.

"My sense of humor draws the line at defacing the honor of the dead, Molly," I replied. "I don't know how I did it or how exactly it happened, but I lost consciousness in the cold... and well, I spoke to my Mum. She had given me the watch from Fabian in this dream – or whatever it was – and when I came to it was in my pocket. I couldn't find any other logical explanation besides me somehow communicating with the dead, but if you manage to come up with something that makes more sense then by all means enlighten me. But please, don't ask me to elaborate anymore, Molls, because I frankly just can't. You have to trust what I say is the truth, no matter how barmy it sounds."

"You wouldn't lie about something like this," she said in the form of a statement though it seemed as if she wanted me to reassure her, so I did.

"Of course not," I said. "He said for you to put it back into 'rightful hands', and he said you'd know what that meant I suppose."

Molly was quiet for a long time, silently sobbing as she ran the watch in between her pudgy fingers as if she was remembering ever freckle on her brothers' faces and every sparkle in their eye when they laughed. She blinked away tears when she finally looked up at me again.

"Fabian was never one for material possessions," she smirked, reminiscing to herself. "He broke almost everything he owned in one way or another, but– but he always treasured this watch for some reason. My father gave it to him for his seventeenth birthday, as his wizard's right of passage, you know. My father died not too long after, and I think that must be why he took such good care of it – besides the dent of course – but, that's near perfect condition for Fay."

"What are you going to do with it?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied as if she'd already thought it over for a decade. "I think– I think I'll just know... when the time is right."

"Fabian wouldn't have asked me to give it to you if he didn't trust your judgment," I said, and I could tell she appreciated it.

"No, I suppose he wouldn't have," she smiled through he tears. "Fay – and Gid for that matter – adored you, Winnie, and your Mum too."

"Molly, I know–" I began suddenly. "I mean about my Mum and Gideon. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Molly released a curt laugh as if she was amused by my cleverness.

"Your life was complicated enough," she began. "You never met your father, and I didn't want you to alter your thoughts of your father with memories of Gideon. I wanted the memories of you mother and father to remain true."

"And Gideon is true to the memory of my Mum," I replied. "He was a part of her as was Fabian and as was my Father."

"Perhaps they were," she said solemnly in agreement, "and perhaps they are now a part of you."

–

Molly and Arthur stayed the evening with us, sharing a holiday meal before they left. I don't think Molly figured I'd be taking the whole Rita Skeeter debacle as well as I was, so she didn't feel as obligated to stay for an extended period. The twins and I concluded we would stay until the day before classes reconvened to avoid any unnecessary attention that I was already undoubtedly going to receive. I knew what I was going to walk in to, and I didn't want to walk into it too soon. Molly left with the watch close to her heart along with Arthur and departed back to the Burrow not too long before midnight. However, before Molly left she delivered a thick envelope that had been addressed to me and appeared on the Burrow's doorstep the evening before.

Cassandra left the the twins and I to ourselves in the living area along with Leo and May. I sat upon the floor with my back leaning against the armchair Fred inhibited, Leo's enormous head rested lazily in my lap as I mindlessly stroked his thick fur. George laid on upon his back with May asleep on his stomach, purring loud enough for me to hear a few feet away. I flipped through the contents of the envelope, a thick stapled package of papers was what had been enclosed.

"The nerve," George snorted, straining his neck to the side to face me, "the sheer audacity that woman must have to send you a packet of interview questions to answer and send back to her."

"Well, she's smart enough to know that I would never agree to a sit down interview with her, so I expect she resorted to this hogwash to get her story," I frowned. "The fact that she offered me three hundred galleons for it is the most insulting part of it all."

"Three hundred galleons for answering some stupid questions – I'd do it," said Fred. "That's six galleons a question."

"That's also coming from someone who I personally witnessed eat a caterpillar for a knut," I frowned, tilting my head to peer up at him with an amused expression. "You'll excuse me if I don't seek out your opinion on the matter."

"Alas, I was mere child then, disillusioned by the sight of a bronze trinket and naively influenced by that of a mature mind and noble reputation," said Fred wistfully.

"First off, you were _fourteen. _Second off,it was _Lee_ who dared you," I smirked, "of whom is neither mature or nobly reputed in any fashion."

"Age is just a number and nobility is in the eye of the beholder," Fred teased, pulling my pigtail affectionately. "Quit being so pessimistic and answer the wretched old hag's questions. You'll get her and every other news source off your back once you've gotten your story out on the table and you can put the money towards the store. I wouldn't feel as guilty about you putting your money from that towards it considering I reckon George and I will end up being involved in several of those interview answers. It'd be a group effort over all."

"You mean like, 'When you were abandoned at birth, did you find living your infancy with a clan werewolves to be beneficial to the person you are today?'" I said dryly. "That seems like a reasonable question, don't you think? Alicia completely falsified my entire life, and I wager most of this idiotic questions are from her personally. I refuse to give Rita Skeeter – and Alicia for that matter – the pleasure of another front page story because of me. The galleons I'd receive for it would be nothing but filth to me, and I'd feel disgusting for accepting anything from that woman or any other paper for that matter."

"I agree with Winnie," said George.

"Of course _you_ do," Fred muttered under his breath, loud enough for me to hear but not George. I slammed my fist down on his foot, earning a satisfying curse from him in reply.

"I'm still determined to get our money back from Bagman, so if we ration our finances once we finally receive our winnings then I think we'll still be on the right track," said George, unfazed.

"Good luck with that," I said, rolling my eyes. "The likelihood of you two getting your winnings back from Ludo Bagman are about the same as ole Ludo winning another Cup for the Wasps."

"Judging my your twang of sarcasm and Ludo's currently less than athletic form... I reckon you think our chances of success are low," said George, smirking.

"You're smarter than you look, Georgie," I teased.

"Well, back to your money situation though," said Fred. "You have to agree that once you get your story out there that the pressure will be off at least a little bit. You'll have to tell it someday to someone."

"And that day is not today and that someone will _never_ be Rita Skeeter," I grimaced for a moment before grinning like a Cheshire cat as a revelation struck me like a ton of bricks. "Mates, I think I have an idea. I believe I may have just found a way to get my revenge on Alicia and Rita Skeeter while also helping out a friend in the process."

"How's that?" asked George curiously.

"You'll see," I grinned. "Now, reach over in my bag and grab that little green labeled bottle of black ink. I need to start filling out my interview questions, so Rita Skeeter can get her big scoop."

George slid his hand strategically into my bag and felt out the small bottle of ink Ron had given me for Christmas... two years in a row now. He lifted it before his face, and I watched as a smile began to grow as he read the label. He tossed it underhanded to Fred who had an identical reaction before handing it to me at last. I winked at them and read my first question aloud.

–

It was evening when the twins and I finally flew back into Hogwarts the day before classes resumed. I was somewhat sad to leave after the much needed break from proper society. I was also a bit upset when Cassandra told me she thought it best for us to meet only once every couple weeks to avoid developing my powers too quickly. I was starting to warm up the old witch, and I was sort of not too keen on the idea of seeing her less than what I was accustomed to.

The twins and I had used Cassandra's fireplace to reach Charlie's old place in Hogsmeade before flying via broomsticks the remainder of the way. I knew Angelina and Katie must have been expecting me because the window was left open which allowed Fred, George and I to fly inside with little notice. The room looked different. The same three beds remained, but Alicia's was bare. Her four poster was pristinely made, but none of her personal effects were anywhere in sight. In fact, her things didn't match anymore. They were replaced, replaced with countless books and Muggle items. I furrowed my brows before looking over to my best girl friend.

Angelina laid on her stomach upon her bed, a book in between her elbows. She jerked her head up when the three of us zoomed into the room. I didn't know what to expect from Ang. I half expected her to be angry with me for not telling her, and I wouldn't blame her for it. May escaped from my messenger bag as soon as I landed, and Angelina stood completely still as if we were in a stare down. She sent me an unreadable expression before running forward. I flinched, not expecting the tight embrace I received. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and returned her hug. She finally took a step back, still gripping my shoulders and towering over me slightly.

"I'm glad you're back," she grinned, looking from me and then from George to Fred, "all of you."

"Ang, I should have told y–"

"Winnie, don't apologize," said Angelina with a smile. "I completely understand. I'm not upset with you, no one is. I know why you kept it a secret, and I can hardly blame you. I'm just sorry Alicia is a royal bitch and betrayed you like this."

"She'll get hers," I muttered, "don't worry."

"No matter," said Angelina. "We both agreed she should move out, McGonagall approved it without a moment's hesitation. It was no trouble finding someone willing to move out of their dorm and into ours, but it was a lot of trouble finding a dormitory of girls who would let her move in."

"You mean no one was chomping at the bit for a new roommate?" George snorted.

"Far from it," said Angelina. "The other three girls from our year didn't want any additional roommates, and even the younger girls have been giving Alicia the cold shoulder. The only people talking to her is Lavender Brown and her little posse of gossip-hungry socialite-wannabes. They were the only ones who agreed to let her move in with them."

"Then who agreed to move in with us?"

"The only person more anxious to move out as Alicia was to move in," said an airy voice from the hall. "Welcome back, Winnie."

"_Granger_?" I smirked.

"It is extremely rare to intermingle the years dormitory-wise," she said, carrying Crookshanks in her arms. "It is forbidden except under extenuating circumstances. _Hogwarts: A History_ only cites a few such cases where it has been accepted into use."

"I reckon the threat of battery and manslaughter sort of convinced ole McGonagall to separate Alicia and Freddie?" asked Fred, smirking to himself.

"Yes, I suspect those are two potential circumstances Professor McGonagall took into consideration before giving Angelina and Alicia her consent to the move," said Hermione, sitting down on what was now her bed.

"So why were you so anxious to move?" I asked. "I thought you were on good terms with the girls in your year."

"I am," she shrugged, stroking Crookshanks' thick fur, "but living with Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil can be... challenging at times. When Angelina told me your bedroom does not suffocate the inhabitants with an incessant aroma of thick lavender then I was sold."

"No, not lavender," said George comically. "However, the stench of body odor is probably comparable in thickness and strength."

I turned around and swatted George hard in the gut.

"He's joking," I said, rolling my eyes as I turned back to Hermione.

"Only slightly, that's the disgusting part," said Fred, earning an identical swat to the stomach as his brother.

"Ignore them," I frowned. "They have this mad idea set in their heads that they're funny or something. I've been trying to shake it out of their systems for years."

"No luck thus far," said Fred and George in unison.

"No matter," I shrugged, "so you say that Lavender and the Patil twins are the only ones speaking to her?"

"Oh yes," said Hermione. "The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws shunned her as soon as word got out what she had done to you, the Slytherins never spoke to her to begin with, and it's no surprise who won the popularity contest between the two of you within Gryffindor."

"I almost feel bad," I said, "_almost_."

"It doesn't seem to bother her much," said Angelina. "Since she's won her little junior correspondent job for the summer, she acts like she's above everyone else, like she could care less whether or not she has a friend in the world."

"I've decided Alicia is air to me," I shrugged. "I have to be around her, but I will just act as if I cannot see her. However, air is necessary to my survival, and Alicia most certainly is not."

"What exactly are you planning on doing to get her back?" asked Hermione. "I must condone any delinquent behavior, but I am curious..."

"You'll just have to wait and see, Granger," I smirked deviously, "but you will find out soon enough. Speaking of, I actually need to have a word with Alicia. Where do you wager she's at?"

"I watched Kates trip her through the portrait hole on her way to see Pucey an hour or so ago," said Angelina. "I reckon she's still in the Common Room, but I wish you'd keep away from her for now. I think you should unpack, and we can catch up more on everything."

"I just have to drop something off, and I'll be right back to tell you everything," I said.

Angelina nodded and sat back down on her bed. The twins departed for their own dormitory (after resorting to sliding down the staircase because of their lack of Sex Switching Shoe Soles. I skidded down after them, hopping gracefully onto my two feet at the end. The common room was unusually packed, and I noticed several of my fellow Gryffindors began whispering fiercely to one another at my arrival. A couple first years squealed together as if they'd just seen the Wicked Sisters or something. I spotted Alicia almost instantly, positioned in between Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil. The two fourth years shot each other giddy glances as if they were about to see the talk of the week happen before their eyes. Alicia looked up and caught sight of me and instantly looked back down to her book. She still had fading bruises under each eye from the punch to the nose I had delivered to her. I noticed she adjusted herself in her seat as the twins walked by her and ascended the steps to their bedroom while I slowly approached her like a starving lioness who had just spotted a herd of zebra.

"Hey Winnie," said Lavender in a high pitched tone that could have shattered glass.

"Hello Geranium and Patil twin," I nodded curtly to each of them before looking back to my nemesis. "I was looking to speak with Alicia. I have something for her."

Though Alicia had not looked up to acknowledge my presence until just then, it was rather gratifying to see Alicia flinch at that statement as if she expected me to give her another slug in the mouth.

"Why so jumpy, Leesh?" I snorted. "You're acting like you're expecting me to hit you or something. How'd you get those nasty bruises by the way – well, no matter – I wanted to pass this on to you."

I slapped down the very packet that Rita Skeeter had sent to me from my messenger bag. Alicia looked from me to the papers to me again. She slowly slid the packet towards her and flipped the pages open as if it was about to explode. Her eyes widened in surprise as she quickly skimmed through the papers. She looked up at me with amazement.

"You– I mean, this is really filled out," she breathed. "I didn't think you'd do it – why did you do it?"

"I figured that I'm going to keep getting pestered by the press until my story is heard," I shrugged. "As much as I despise Rita Skeeter, I also know that her paper has the largest readership. I don't want the money for it though, I just wouldn't feel right about it. I was asked for interviews by every paper in the wizarding world besides one or two, and I'd rather go big if I'm going to do this. You'll make sure it gets to her, won't you?"

"Of c– I mean, sure," she said, trying to act as if she didn't hold the most anticipated story the Prophet had seen in a decade. "I'm sure Miss Skeeter would be very appeased to see I made certain such an important package was delivered to her."

"Yeah," I nodded. "I bet she would."

"Er– why are you being so nice to me?" she asked suspiciously. "You have no reason to be."

"You're doing me a favor," I said simply, "and people would have found out eventually, right? I realize that now."

She looked me up and down as if I'd gone mad, and couldn't find the words to tell me.

"I– I'll just go and send it off now," said Alicia awkwardly, clambering to her feet.

Lavender and Pavarti looked extremely disappointed as Alicia darted off towards the Owlery. I winked at them and ascended the stairs to speak with Angelina before bed.

–

"For the last time, Creevey, I cannot give you the answers to your Muggle Studies exam," I frowned, walking swiftly by the small boy. "I couldn't even if I wanted to, so go and tell all your little friends to quit asking."

I'd been asked nearly four dozen times for answers to exams, requests for palm readings, and questions about the near future before I even reached the Great Hall for breakfast. I'd expected this, however, and I just ignored it. Little Colin Creevey had been the most recent and followed after me like a lost puppy until I side-stepped him into the Great Hall. He was so consumed with finding out my answer that he ran straight into the door. I snorted a laugh and led myself and the twins into the Great Hall. A number of heads turned to face me, but I kept my eyes on my usual spot near the front of the Gryffindor tables. George sat beside me and Fred across from us beside Lee. I immediately dug into a bowl of oatmeal without a second thought, spotting Alicia with Lavender and Pavarti a table away, chatting incessantly. I'd spoke to Lee the night before but not yet of my plans with Alicia. I wanted the whole ordeal to be a grand surprise after all. Lee looked up at the windows, spotting the distant shadow of owls in the gray skyline.

"Post should be here soon," said Lee.

The twins and I paused, sharing identical devious grins.

"We know," we said in unison.

Lee looked taken aback slightly, eyeing us suspiciously. However, he merely shrugged and tore into a piece of toast and jam. After a few more minutes passed, the hum of flapping wings rung in my ears as hundreds of owls arrived with letters and treats in their beaks. June was mixed in with the lot of them, carrying a solitary letter in her tiny mouth. She dropped the small envelope before me and seemed exhausted, for she helped herself to my oatmeal and perched herself on Fred's rigid shoulder a moment later to his dismay. He smirked slightly and rubbed the side of his head against her black feathers. It was rather precious, really.

"Who's your letter from?" asked Fred, gently scratching June's neck and causing her to coo in reply.

"Oliver," I said, hearing a faint grunt of disdain from George that I chose to ignore. After reading further I narrowed my gaze and scrunched up my face with confusion. "Er– I guess it is, I mean... I don't know."

_Winifred McKinnon:_

_My most sincere apologies for not contacting you sooner since the unfortunate incident that occurred on the 25__th__ of December. I have been extremely consumed with my occupational duties, and I do hope you understand. _

_Respectfully Yours,  
__Oliver Wood_

_Dictated but not read by:  
__Mrs. Mary M. Cattermole_

"What the hell is this shite?" I spat, tossing the letter across to Fred. "He doesn't write me since Christmas and all he has to say is two sentences dictated by his bloody assistant?"

"Trouble in paradise?" Lee smirked.

"He's been a great boyfriend," I said, rolling my eyes, "but all my media attention seems to be pushing him away. I don't understand."

"He's jealous," said George.

"Of whom?" I snorted.

"It's more of a _what_ than a _whom_," said Fred in agreement with his twin.

"Alright, then of what?"

"Your undeniable attention lately," said George.

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"Let's face it, Freddie, ole Ollie is a media whore," said Fred. "Ever since he first saw his face plastered across the _Prophet _it was like he received his first hit of a drug."

"You're sucking up all of his supply," said George, "and it looks like he's suffering from withdraws."

"That's ridiculous–" I began.

"HOW DARE YOU?" screamed an all too familiar voice from down the row, interrupting our conversation.

An equally familiar red envelope was flying through the air before Alicia's shocked expression. It appeared that my plan was in motion as Rita Skeeter's shrill tones sung revenge. George dropped the letter from Oliver that Fred had passed onto him and turned to stare at the obnoxious scene with everyone else in the Great Hall.

"HOW DARE YOU, YOU TREACHEROUS TWAT?" shouted the howler. "IS THIS SOME SORT OF SICK JOKE TO YOU? I SEE NO HUMOR IN IT! TAKE BACK THIS NONSENSE AND DO NOT CONTACT ME UNTIL YOU HAVE COME TO YOUR SENSES! YOUR ACTIONS ARE ATROCIOUS, SIMPLY DISGRACEFUL!"

Then as quickly as it came, the howler erupted into flames and flickered lazily to the ground. Alicia looked horrified as everyone else burst into roaring laughter. She fumbled to open the envelope she had initially sent to Rita from me. She flipped through the pages and gasped in horror, shrieking in frustration before she threw the packet between the three boys and I with all her might. Her hands were balled into fists as she stomped out of the Great Hall, her two minions in toe. The twins and I returned to out breakfasts as if nothing had happened whilst Lee snatched up the packet and scanned through it.

"Sweet Merlin's beard," he choked on a mixture of breadcrumbs and surprise. "You didn't."

The three of us exchanged sneaky grins.

"Question #16, how has being abandoned at such a young age influenced your outlook on having children yourself?" Lee read aloud from the papers. "Well, Miss McKinnon is undecided about someday bearing children due to the fact that she has seen the face of Miss Rita Skeeter and has come to the recent revelation that she will never be able to be sexually aroused again after witnessing such a horrific sight."

"Ironic Ink," I said casually, smiling proudly to myself. "You write what you really want it to say then touch the paper to erase it from sight. Then you write what you want it to initially write. However, once the intended first reader is finished viewing the writing it changes to what the creator wrote first off."

"Sounds complicated," said Lee, still laughing.

"It sounds like the best Christmas present Ron has ever given me," I joked, slowly taking to my feet. "Now, if you will excuse me for just a moment."

I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and confidently strode over to the Ravenclaw table. Luna was sitting alone, a copy of _The_ _Quibbler _in her hands. She didn't even notice I had approached her until I dropped my bag atop the table across from her and took a seat. She blinked erratically and carefully closed her paper, smiling over at me.

"Winnie, hello," she beamed. "I heard of your ability, congratulations."

"Thanks, I guess," I chuckled.

"What brings you to Ravenclaw territory?" she inquired.

"Well, I wanted to ask you something," I said.

"Oh, ask away then," she said with child-like wonder.

"Why didn't your father write me for an interview?"

"Father appreciates privacy in such matters," she said honestly. "He would love to have an interview with you, but he also knows that you are still rather young and did not initially reach out to the media to begin with. He also imagines that the other papers offered you a significant amount of money for an interview, and... well, _The Quibbler_ doesn't have the funds like _The Prophet, _you understand... this has been a rather dreary year for news and finances..."

"Here," I said, receiving the answer I wanted. I slid a packet of papers with my chicken scratch on it across the tabletop to her. Luna eyed me curiously and slowly lifted the cover to read the contents.

"What is this?" she asked.

"That, my young Ravenclaw friend, is the packet of interview questions sent to me by Rita Skeeter – answered by yours truly," I smiled. "Some questions were ridiculous but some were alright. I scratched out the ones I didn't like and added my own. I blew off the_ Prophet_ for a _Quibbler_ exclusive."

"That sentence has never been spoken before to my knowledge," said Luna. "Oh, but– Father could never pay–"

"Luna, I don't want money," I smiled feebly. "Just promise me that your dad will respect my story and not make it some moronic celebrity tale. Just tell the truth."

"Winnie, you have no idea how much this will– I mean, this is so kind," she breathed, trembling slightly with excitement.

"I'm just helping out a friend," I grinned, reaching over and affectionately squeezing her tiny hand in mine.

–

It wasn't so bad, really, not as bad as I expected it to be. The whole people knowing what I am thing, I mean. The number of fortune seekers seemed to thankfully dwindle weeks into the latter semester, and I only had to fight off about two or three of them every passing day. I'd like to say that something dramatic or exciting had occurred between my return to school all the way up until the Second Task, but I'm afraid that would be a blatant lie. It had been unusually uneventful for a long while. I saw Cassandra every other week or two and continued my training, Alicia pretended rather successfully that I didn't exist, and Oliver continued his infuriating apathetic attitude towards me but besides that there was nothing much.

I'd received a bouquet of red roses from Oliver on Valentines – his assistant rather. He knew red roses were my least favorite flower, and I don't know if he did it on purpose or what he was thinking. I'd come back to an anonymous flower upon my pillow after classes on Valentine's Day, but I knew without a sliver of doubt to who the gift had come from._ It was a Ginger flower after all. _

I'd had no major visions or anything like that. It had been eerily boring, and I had a feeling that things were about to change very soon. That wasn't a seer's intuition, it was just a feeling. I'd been hoping for some sort of insight into the Second Task with intentions of knowing how Harry would manage with the egg, but I had no such luck. With the Second Task looming within the next twenty four hours I found myself wishing for a sudden vision for once.

McGonagall had ran into the twins and I on one of our numerous trips to the kitchens one night and recruited us to find Ron and Hermione to speak to her. She wouldn't explain why, so we were anxious to uncover what the big secret was exactly. We figured we'd try the library first considering Hermione was likely to be there at least half the day every day. We were halfway to the library before Fred brought up the subject I was most adamant in avoiding.

"So have you heard word from Oliver lately?" he asked. "I saw he kept a good match against the Canons last weekend."

"Did he?" I scoffed. "I wouldn't know. He's been writing me more often but half of his letters are bloody dictated. It's insufferable. It seems like as my fifteen minutes of fame dwindles away, he appears a bit more likely to speak to me."

"That's not right," said George abruptly, earning sideways glances from Fred and I. "He shouldn't be intimidated by you and even if he is then he shouldn't let if have any weight on your relationship. He should take you for who you are and love you for it no matter what that entails."

I looked George up and down curiously and smiled softly to myself as he he kept his eyes glued forward.

"Er– yeah, you're right," I said quietly. "Relationships are built on a balance of give and take. He won't take what I give."

"He still cares for you, Freddie," said Fred. "He's probably just sorting things out in his head. Oliver hasn't really been able to be his own person until this last year, and I think he's just figuring everything out in his own time."

"Since when are you defending Wood?" George scoffed.

"I want Freddie to be happy and if that includes Oliver then... it includes Oliver, I s'pose," said Fred, shrugging.

"I really don't know if my happiness includes him much anymore, Fred," I said quietly. "I obviously am unnecessary to his."

"Well, then–" started George.

However, Graham Montague, Bole and Derrick rounded the corner just as he was beginning another thought. They were playfully shoving each other and toppling over every so often in response. I felt George grip my wrist snugly in his hand. I don't know why, but I jerked it away suddenly, taking him off guard. I just couldn't stand the feeling of his skin against mine. I also didn't like him protecting me in an unnecessary situation. Montague and his two interchangeable neanderthals approached us without a moment's hesitation and smiled like a hunter stalking his prey. He'd been making nonsense jokes about my ability since the start of the new term, and I was growing more and more annoyed with his lack of comedic grace.

"Hey McKinnon," he grinned.

"Don't you have to be off shaving each others' backs or something grotesquely monotonous?" I frowned.

"Have a look then, I'm sure you can see–"

"For the last time, Montague, I can see through minds," I sighed, "not clothing, and that most certainly not trousers – because I'm quite certain that question would root its ugly head sooner or later – no pun intended. Now, if you'll excuse us."

I brushed by them with the twins beside me, turning their noses up to the other three buffoons like me. Montague and his cronies didn't seem at all fazed for their loud laughter could be heard all along the lengthy corridor.

"I think his IQ is actually dropping by the day," I said.

"I have a bad feeling about him, Win," said George.

"I have a bad everything about him," I laughed.

"Seriously," he said solemnly, looking back over his shoulder as we entered the library. "He's big and dumb and those two attributes don't really go well together. He could hurt you if you managed to work him up–"

"George, quit impersonating Percy," I said, poking his side. "You're no good at it."

George rolled his eyes and trailed in to see the Golden Trio after Fred and I with a sour expression across his face. Hermione, Ron and Harry were knee deep in stacks of books that were no doubt in preparation of the next task. They didn't even notice us at first.

"Oh, this is no use," Hermione said, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," said Fred. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. Fred, George and I had just emerged from behind some bookshelves and surprised them a bit.

"What're you three doing here?" asked Ron.

"Looking for you," said George. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione."

"Why?" said Hermione, looking surprised.

"Dunno… she was looking a bit grim, though," I said.

"We're supposed to take you down to her office," said Fred.

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry, who looked as if he's just swallowed a glass of sour milk. I could hardly blame him.

"We'll meet you back in the common room," Hermione told Harry as she got up to go with Ron - both of them looked very anxious. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"

"Right," said Harry uneasily.

"'S go, Ronnie and Roommate," I teased, leaping onto Ron's back for a piggyback ride that he reluctantly conceded to give me. I'd only gotten a few feet away from the spot they'd just been sitting before Harry called me back.

"Winnie, could I have a word – _alone_?" he said quietly.

Oh, sure," I said, my smile falling. "I'll meet up with you later."

As soon as the other four were out of sight, I plopped down across from him and sent him an urging expression.

"You know what I'm going to ask you, Win," said Harry.

"If I know the outcome of the Second Task?" I smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Er– yeah," he said sheepishly.

"I couldn't tell you, Harry," I said. "It wouldn't be right."

"I know," he frowned. "I'm just sort of desperate, you understand."

"Yeah," I said, biting my lower lip. "I could tell you how things will turnout for you even though I can't tell you how."

Harry looked up at me with a hopeful expression. I didn't know how things would turnout, not in the slightest. However, I knew a placebo of a vision couldn't do any harm. In fact, it may do a lot of good. I closed my eyes for a drawn out minute for effect before looking up at Harry again.

"You'll come out of it fine, Harry, don't worry," I said and I'd never seen him look so relieved.

I knew it had to be true, and when I turned out to be just that the following day my non-vision turned out out be the greatest vision I had ever had.

–

_**A/N: **__Five weeks for an update? I suck. I have barely had any time lately to write anything for funsies, so I'm so sorry for my lack of updating. I did, however, plot out the remaining chapters in Part II (there will be 15 like the last one by the way). I hope to finish it by April, so I can start Part III which I am extremely pumped about. I wrote the first paragraph for Chapter 1 of Part III, and I can't even wait to write more. Thank you so much for sticking with me and loyally reading this fic. I am actually pleased with it over all (which is rare for me), and I owe it all to your lovely feedback and unwavering support. I write stories as a stress reliever/creative outlet, and you guys keep it fun for me. Thanks again=) _

_**PS: **__I'm sorry this chapter was stilted and a filler. Excuse typos for now. I am too tired to check for them atm. I solemnly swear to make the remaining 3 chapters epic. _

_**PSS:**__ Happy Birthday to me=)_

_**Coming Soon: **__Winnie's first prophecy, the 3__rd__ task leaves Winnie incapacitated, Oliver shows his true colors, Winnie sees Karkaroff through the eyes of another, a run in with Trelawney, Part II concludes, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Shameless Story Pimping Time**_

_George/OC_

_Romance/Humor _

_**Epiphanies and Ginger Boys**_

_by Virginia Wolfe_

_This fic deserves so many more reviews and attention than it has gotten so far. I am honestly taken aback by how creative and original the character and just the plot in general is. It is totally refreshing and brilliant. The characterizations are spot on, and I cannot get enough of the OC (Livia). If you like Winnie then you will LOVE this story! Check it out and review her wonderful fic=) It would mean a great deal to me. Pretty please=)_

–

_**Hump Day Howlers**_

–

_**Thank you so very much to:**_

_Blazeflower, Cheesecake, Smokey Heather, BellaCullen2313, annie-elise, LuLu Reader, JillianFofillian, Melany, Caroline, browniepoints, Disney Destini, Like a Boss, K8YHALMAN, amberhathaway, I ship klaine like a boss, Blonde Pickle Mule, fredslastlaugh, Cherry Tree Blossoms, shadowrunner240, Dying is her Latest Fashion, emeraldDaze, && DracoMalfoy4Ever_

–

_**FlamingSnowpaw:**__ Thanks so much for your honest review. I almost cried when I saw that you thought Winnie was bordering on Mary-Sue! I've been trying to avoid that so terribly bad! The house thing was pretty random, but I was trying to show that Cassandra had a heart. I feel like I made her too cartoony, and I had her give Winnie the house more for Cassandra's character than Winnie. In regards to the money thing, you have to consider the fact that Winnie is the sole remaining heir on either side of her family (minus Cassandra who was considered dead). She's therefore the sole beneficiary and any funds that was possessed by all of the adults in her family tree would have passed their estates down to her over time. She also never buys anything besides the necessities for herself and annual gifts for the Weasley's, so she's reasonably conservative in her spending especially for someone her age. Thank you so much again! PLEASE keep me in line, so I can avoid making Winnie a Sue. I would just die._

_**Virginia Wolfe: **__I feel like a celebrity is reviewing my work because I love your fic so much, and I think you are so immensely talented! Thank you so much for your kind words about Winnie! I absolutely adore Livia! I may have to pimp her in my fic like I did Maddy Crouch for tardisandafirebolt, possibly pop by the shop for a visit with her little prat of a brother in the future. I'd never screw with your character, but I'd so promote her for a scene or two=) Part IV? I think so=)_

_**Omg:**__ Yes, I did. I'm re-writing it. I lost inspiration, but I'll be posting soon._

_**Angelu2:**__ Thanks so much, love! I like your new username=) Only time will tell, I'm afraid. I promise it'll happen within the next 10 chapters... or well, I may just have Winnie and Oliver get married and have loads of babies...;) Who really knows! Ha ha._

_**Megera & NowThatYouMentionIt & sort of proud:**__ Thanks for the feedback! Yeah, I know I laid the accent on heavy. I was trying to imitate this lovely old woman I met in Ireland last summer who spoke like that, but I think I just epically failed. Irish accents are my favorite, but I struggle writing them=) Thanks again, and I'll try to tone it down in the future!_

_**imAddicted.2myipod:**__ Thank you so much! I've had some complaints lately about recent chapters and Winnie being a Mary Sue etc, so I'm so glad to hear you're enjoying the fic! I'm also so thankful you like my characterizations! It means a lot! Thanks again=)_

_**Booklover555: **__Thanks for the feedback! Yeah, I'm now thinking that too. I appreciate your review so much=)_

_**WhatsGoingOn: **__All I'm going to say to you is THANK YOU for being such a loyal reader && in regards to your review... I was thinking exactly the same thing ;)_

_**InsignificantBlimp:**__ ha ha, I loved your description of Cassandra! She's just a tiny old lady with a slightly prominent hunched back. Yes, she is quite thin with thick glasses with brightly colored clothing and grayish/blue hair. Winnie Wood? hm. Maybe we;ll have to try that out...;) lol. Anyways, thanks so much I always love your reviews because they're absolutely brilliant! AND NOT CROOKSHANKS! AH! _

_**Maddie Black:**__ Thanks for the review, doll! I always enjoy yours=) Yes, Marlene and Gideon had a thing (though it was much more than just a 'thing' in reality), but she was faithful to Benjy until his death. In all likelihood, Marlene would have broken things off with Benjy after Winnie's birth for Gideon, although Molly and Arthur told her that Ben & Marlene would have married if he wouldn't have died. I have mirrored the relationship I've created between Benjy, Marlene and Gideon with Oliver, Winnie and George as well as Fay, Gid and Marley with Fred, George and Freddie. I hope Winnie doesn't make the same mistake her mum did=/ Anyways, thanks so much again!_

_**Quidditchandsonicscrewdrivers:**__ Well, I just LALALALALOVE you! I'm glad you liked the grave scene, and I know the Irish accent was a bit strong as well. I met this little old woman in Ireland last summer who spoke that way, so I based it on her. I epically failed, but oh well. I haven't finished Winnie's first prophecy, but I know she'll have at least two over the sequels. Oliver isn't going to be jealous of Winnie and George's relationship any longer, though he is jealous of her for some other reason. Thanks so much again, love! I so appreciate it!_

–

_**Review.**_


	14. Chapter 13: The Shared Spotlight

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_The Shared Spotlight_

–

_It is not love that is blind,  
but jealousy._

–

Time passed slower than I thought was humanly possible after Harry excelled in the second task. It felt like an eternity had passed before the weather finally began to become less dreary, the grass began to grow green and flowers blossomed into beautiful examples of Spring's blessings. I'd heard little word from Oliver, letters between us few and far between. I'd sort of made my peace with it after awhile, hoping that once Summer came to pass that we would rekindle what has apparently been lost. Though I began to wonder deep down in my heart of hearts whether or not what was lost had ever existed in the first place.

The whole shock of my ability had dwindled and everyone started to just accept it or ignore it existed, both of which I was pleased with. A few select nameless peers still obsessed over the fact, but I refused to allow their ridiculousness to bother me. Alicia avoided me like the plague and George too for that matter. I was getting used to my lovely little new roommate, who kept me in line a bit more than I expected. She'd become a pretty good friend which was admittedly unexpected considering we were about as different as night and day. She'd been understanding and empathetic with my Oliver nonsense, choosing not to bring up my excessive sleeping and other somewhat antisocial or depressed mannerisms lately. The twins kept trying to distract me from Oliver's lack of interest in our relationship, and I appreciated their attempts even if they didn't exactly work most of the time.

I'd spent most of my Saturday in bed after a particularly curt letter from Oliver, curled up under my comfortable blankets to forget about the world. Angelina had gone off to spend the day with Katie while Hermione sat idly on her bed reading an outrageously thick book. Everyone but Fred and George had accepted my lazy day because they burst through the closed door to out chambers, holding their broomsticks in hand with matching excited smiles. They'd startled Hermione, but I barely budged from my slumber.

"No more sulking," said Fred, hopping on my bed and propelling me into the air.

"Ugh, leave me be," I said, curling back under my blankets and covering my head with a pillow.

"We're going to play a bout of Quidditch," said George, yanking my pillow from my grasp to expose me to the sun.

"Quidditch, you say?" I grinned slyly like a Cheshire cat, rolling over and looking up at them. I could never resist a round of my favorite sport. I climbed out of bed, snatched up my broom from the closet and began to follow the twins out the door.

"Winnie – _clothes_," said Hermione dryly, not bothering to look up from her book.

"Oh, right," I laughed, realizing I was still wearing pajamas. I tossed my broom on my bed and flipped up my bed-skirt to pull out some clothes. Judging by the shining sun, I opted for an ancient pair of cargo shorts and a Molly Weasley couture sweater that was about three sizes too big. I pulled off my top and kicked off my pajama trousers but froze as I slip my sweater over my arms at the sound of Hermione gasping.

"Merlin's beard!" she choked.

"What?" I said, looking around for a wild goblin or something.

"Fred and George are still in the room!"

"Yeah?" I said, furrowing my brow as if she'd just declared the sky blue.

"Well, it is–"

"They've seen me far more naked than this," I shrugged, unfazed as I pulled on my sweater.

"We used to take baths together, Granger, nothing could surprise us anymore," said George, not even intrigued enough to glance at me.

"A tradition I suggest we re-institute immediately by the way," said Fred, raising a suggestive eyebrow and winking at me. I noticed George chanced a look at me out of the corner of his eye, a faint blush noticeable as he uncomfortably cleared his throat. I laughed and through my discarded pajamas in Fred's face.

"Let's go, idiot," I joked, picking up my discarded Nimbus 2001. "See you later, 'mione."

"Have fun," she smiled, waving at us as we departed. "Try to keep your mind off things."

The twins and I strolled the halls of the castle, in no particular hurry. The sun's rays illuminated the corridors in a cheerful manner that I hadn't seen in ages. The three of us seemed to all be in good spirits with thoughts of the warm air whisking by us in the air. We had the cheer sucked right out of us when we saw the Quidditch pitch was already being used by half of the Hufflepuff team. When they noticed us below, the three of them halted their scrimmage and hovered down before us. It was Eoin Summerby, Zacharias Smith and Cedric Diggory.

"Weasleys, McKinnon," said Zacharias.

"Gentlemen," I nodded, smirking coyly.

"Up for a bout?" asked Eoin.

"Always," said the twins in unison.

"First to 100 points?" I asked, "No Snitch, unless Diggory has any objections..."

"I'm up for anything, McKinnon," he smirked, winking at me.

Five minutes later, Fred and I were playing Chasers along with Eoin and Zacharias with George and Cedric as Keepers. It was fair enough considering Zach and I were the only players in our actual regular positions. It was much more fun than I expected. Regular in-season matches between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were reasonably intense with no room for error. However, with four of the six playing in different positions, we were all laughing at each others downfalls more than concentrating on forcing each other into an actual downward fall.

Cedric Diggory may be one hell of a skilled Seeker, but he was rubbish as a Keeper though George was not much better. It turned into a showdown between Zacharias and I, and we lost track of the score five minutes in after George nearly fell from his broom after a missed goal. After an hour of shenanigans in the sky, we gave in to our exhaustion (half from physical exertion and half from laughing) and landed in the middle of the beautiful green grass within the pitch. We were all rather sweaty and unkempt from the wind blowing through our hair, no one worse than mine however.

I collapsed on my back, my knees bent upwards as I looked up at the gorgeous blue sky and opaline clouds. Fred sat with his legs crossed, carelessly plucking blades of grass with George on my other side, mimicking his brother's actions.

"Good match, Gryffindors," said Eoin, plucking debris from the girth of his broomstick.

"Same to you, Hufflepuffs," said Fred, flicking a couple blades of grass onto my face, "too bad we couldn't have an official match this year."

"Yeah, then we could really show you what we're capable of," said Zacharias, pulling his shirt over his head before collapsing back onto the grass like me.

"You're forgetting who won the Cup last year, Zach darling," I teased, lifting my foot in the air as if I was puppeteering my chucks.

"Yeah, but you lost Wood this year," said Zacharias. "Well, the team did I suppose Winnie didn't."

My stomach suddenly contorted in pain. I swallowed hard to control my urge to grip my aching abdomen. Had I lost Oliver? I honestly didn't know anymore. I didn't know if I wanted to either. I needed to see him, but I didn't know how. I couldn't just up and leave like I did before. Things were different now, and I frankly didn't have the desire to risk punishment for him when he was acting so indifferent towards me.

"Yeah," I scoffed back, knowing he meant no harm.

"Who do you think you'll replace him with?" asked Cedric.

"George," I said without hesitation.

I wasn't thinking. It just came out. I mean, I heard his question and just said exactly what entered my mind at that very second. It was like instinct. I couldn't explain it. I froze, unable to move as I expected... well, I don't know what kind of reaction. However, everyone began to erupt in a fit of laughter. That was the last reaction I expected. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around at the five hysterical boys. Then I understood my unintentional joke. George had just filled in as Keeper and was absolutely dreadful at it. Thank Merlin, I was saved. I forced myself to laugh along with them.

"We might as well toss in the towel before the season begins if that was the case," said George, gripping his stomach as he chuckled.

"I dunno who will replace him," said Fred, finally with a straight face. "It's up to Ang, but I don't even know of anyone who would try-out for the spot."

"Ron," I suggested, and only the twins burst into hysterics this time. The Hufflepuffs had no previous knowledge of Ron's skill or abilities to think it a funny or serious comment.

"Oh, Freddie, you are hilarious," said Fred, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

"I wasn't trying to be," I said. "I can't think of anyone else who could do any better. He may surprise you."

"I'll believe it when I see it," said George.

The sun looked like it was beginning to set or we probably would have enjoyed the beautiful day several hours more. We collected our brooms and reluctantly began our trek back to the castle. I knelt down to pick up my Nimbus, but I was beaten to it by Cedric Diggory. He flashed a shy handsome smile at me and hoisted my broom over his free shoulder. George looked back suspiciously at the pair of us as he followed after the other two Hufflepuffs, beside Fred.

"What are you doing there, Ced?" I asked. "I know I'm rather small, but I am more than capable of carrying my own broomstick. What's your angle?"

"Winnie, I've been wanting to ask you something," said Cedric, beginning to slowly trudge behind the others and purposely creating a reasonable distance between us and the other four boys. "I'm glad we ran into each other today, or I may not have gathered up enough courage to ask you–"

"Spit it out, Diggory," I teased. "What do you need? A kidney? A limb? I hope you're not asking me to read your fortune. You'd be more likely to get a limb off me than a reading."

"No, nothing like that," said Cedric, scratching the back of his neck with his broom handle. "It's hard for me to ask you this because... well, I've never had this problem before..."

"Come on, what is it?" I asked kindly, affectionately patting his arm.

"I'm failing Divination," he frowned, looking more ashamed than I thought he could ever appear. "I've never gotten below an E in any class before, but I just can't keep up with Trelawney this year. If I don't pass my N.E.W.T. In Divination then my father will kill me. I'm not trying to trick you into telling my fortune or whatever for personal gain. I need help, I need a tutor who knows what they're talking about. I'll pay you whatever you want–"

"Simmer down, Diggory," I laughed. "I'll help you."

"You will?" he grinned broadly. "Oh, Winnie, you have no idea how much this means to me!"

"Well, I can't let your father kill you over your Divination marks," I joked, "then I'd be a party to murder. I draw my moral line there. I won't take your money though."

"But I have to pay you somehow," he objected.

"When you're famous for whatever you end up becoming a celebrity for..." I teased, "mention me in your autobiography."

"You got it," he laughed, knowing my true motives were nonexistent.

"I'll meet you on Tuesday and Thursday nights for as long as you need me, alright?" I said.

"That's perfect," he smiled. "Thank you so much, again."

"Don't mention it, Pretty Boy," I teased. "We can't have you tarnishing that sterling reputation of perfection you've got going on."

–

"What were you and Diggory whispering about yesterday?" asked George as if he was trying his hardest to remain indifferent to the subject entirely as we entered the Great Hall for lunch Monday afternoon.

I knew George had been aching to ask me about my quiet conversation with Cedric since Friday, and I was enjoying his fidgeting as I withheld the information he wanted to know. However, when we passed Cedric just before lunch, and he mentioned seeing me at seven o'clock the following evening then George saw his outlet to inquire further.

"He asked me to help his with his Divination work," I replied, "– and we weren't whispering." I added for good measure.

"What did you tell him?" asked George.

"Well, clearly from me telling him I would see him tomorrow night just now," I said. "It would be pretty safe to say I agreed to it. Have you never heard of context clues, Georgie?"

"I wager Oliver wouldn't like you spending so much time alone with another bloke," said George.

"Well, I really don't give a rat's ass what Oliver thinks," I snapped, in an unintentionally nasty way. "I mean, Cedric and I are both in committed relationships, me with Oliver and Cedric with that Chang girl. It's not a big deal. I spend time alone with the two of you every day anyhow."

"I think by Oliver, George meant to insert himself," Fred smirked.

"Shut up, no I didn't," said George fiercely, shoving his brother into our usual seats for dinner.

Angelina and Katie were still missing (most likely in the library with Pucey and Lee to finish up their Potions homework). I had just dug into my beans when an unidentified force slid into me. I coughed down my large bite of beans and turned to my right to see Hermione, appearing extremely engaged at the newspaper in her hands. She sat with her back against the tabletop, the opposite of myself. She had obviously come to sit beside me for a reason, but she seemed to be too wrapped up in the paper to remember she had done so.

"You're going to absolutely die," said Hermione finally, slapping down Witch Weekly so hard that my food leapt off my plate for a moment. I lifted up the article she pointed out and read it aloud.

_Harry Potter_'_s Secret Heartache _

_A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss. _

_Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys_' _affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has _"_never felt this way about any other girl._"

_However, it might not be Miss Granger_'_s doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys_' _interest. Some suggest her abrupt move into recent media darling and Seer Winifred McKinnon's dorm room has something to do with it. Sources suspect that Miss Granger is using Winifred McKinnon's abilities to manipulate the minds these most desired men into her favor. However, if such accusations are true then we must then we must be suspicious about Miss McKinnon's own longtime romantic relations with Puddlemere Keeper, Oliver Wood. (However, that topic must be saved for another article to be tackled, writes Rita Skeeter.) _

_Some other students suspect that Miss Granger is using her own abilities to seduce these boys_

"_She_'_s really ugly,_" _says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, _"_but she_'_d be well up to making a Love Potion, she_'_s quite brainy. I think that_'_s how she_'_s doing it._"

_Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate. _

Fred and George snorted matching laughs into their pudding and I gripped my stomach from laughing. Hermione smiled up at me with a broad smile, obviously thinking it to be as ridiculously hilarious as we did.

"If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," I said, still giggling, as I threw the Witch Weekly onto the empty seat beside Hermione. "What a pile of old rubbish."

"There's something funny, though," said Hermione a few minutes later. "How could Rita Skeeter have known…?"

"Known what?" said Fred, sipping his pumpkin juice. "You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?"

"Don't be stupid," I defended, jerking my head to face Fred before turning back to Hermione.

"It's just… how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?" she continued.

Hermione blushed scarlet as the twins made very inappropriate faces at one another.

"You told me that he asked you right after he pulled you out of the lake, right?" I asked, earning a nod from her in reply. "You're certain you weren't near anyone, not the judges or any eavesdroppers?"

"I'm positive," said Hermione. "And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," Hermione went on, going so red now that I could almost feel the heat coming from her, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there… or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task…"

"I doubt Rita Skeeter has the means to get her claws on an invisibility cloak," I replied. "She must have found someway to bug these private conversations though."

Hermione stared straight ahead with a thoughtful expression, mouthing the word "bug" over and over. After a couple seconds, she shot up from her seat and turned to face me with a bright smile. It was as if I had witnessed a literal light bulb illuminate above her cranium.

"Oh, Winnie, you're brilliant!" she gasped excitedly.

Without another word, Hermione darted off towards the doors with determination in her step. I slowly turned back to the twins who wore matching confused expressions. I shrugged and returned to my lunch.

"What a lunatic," George joked.

"Freddie must be rubbing off on her," said Fred in jest, "poor thing."

–

"No, you _carry_ the two," said George, pointing to our Arithmacy assignment, "and you _subtract_ the seven."

"That's a _one_, not a seven," I objected, scribbling furiously upon the already dreadfully altered parchment.

Professor Vector had been trying to teach us the magical properties of seven in the tenth parallel of Jupiter's second moon since the beginning of the class to no avail. No one could understand how Saturn's fourth ring would intercept the vortex of the third galaxy of Orion. It was all rather simple to you know, Professor Vector. The rest of us were so lost that even the most basic of mathematical skills had flown straight out of my head. George was my partner to work on the assigned chart we were supposed to finish by the end of the hour, and it could be easily concluded that we were about as useful to one another in Arithmacy as we were in Potions. Class was mere moments away from ending as I puffed a stray of hair from my eyes and reached across George to dip my quill in his ink. I in turn accidentally knocked over his entire bottle and spilled the black liquid all over our paper.

George cursed and tried to dab it up with the underbelly of my tie. I yanked my striped maroon and yellow tie back and inadvertently covered my hands in black ink. I help my palms up and looked at them in disgust as George rolled in laughter. I smirked slyly at him and took the opportunity to place a dirty palm on either of George's cheeks. He was initially shocked, ceasing his laughter but dipped his own hands in the mess and wiped a large black mark across my face in response. I gasped, ending in a laugh. Fred looked up at us amid collecting his things and erupted in laughter at the two of us.

"Miss McKinnon! Mister Weasley!" Professor Vector gasped, looking up with a look of surprise on her long face.

"Yes, Professor?" we smiled innocently in unison, peering up at her as if we had perfectly clean faces.

"A word if you please?" she sighed as the rest of the class, including Fred departed the room in a fit of giggles.

We wiped out hands on our robes and reluctantly approached Professor Vector's desk. She was a long-faced woman, thin and rigid. She had a posture similar to McGonagall's, but she had a much more easy-going disposition. I'd always liked her even though I thought her subject of choice to be complete rubbish. She appeared rather flustered, shuffling through paperwork as her peppered hair fell in every which way out of what I imagined to be an initially tight bun. When we reached the edge of her tall mahogany desk Professor Vector dropped all of her papers with a thud upon the tabletop, not in a malicious way but more out of exasperation.

"Why must you two always cause a scene?" she asked, reaching into one of her drawers and pulling out two rags for each of us to clean our faces.

"Popular demand?" I replied with an upward inflection.

"I'm taking ten points from Gryffindor," said Professor Vector, unamused by my remark, "and if your disruptive behavior continues then I will be forced to notify Professor McGonagall of your transgressions."

"Something tells me she won't be surprised," said George under his breath, earning a playful nudge from my elbow.

"I also want you both to deliver these left over ingredients to Professor Snape for me," said Vector, scooting what looked to be a very heavy cauldron full of an assortment of odds and ends of pants and animal parts. "I was worried I would be late to my meeting with Professor Dumbledore, but since the two of you don't seem to mind sullying your... _selves_ then I doubt you would have any objections to visiting the dungeons on my behalf."

"Of course not," we said simultaneously, gritting our teeth into contorted smiles.

"I didn't think so," she replied, smiling victoriously. "Make certain he accounts for each ingredient before you leave."

George and I collected our belongings begrudgingly and returned to pick up the heavy cauldron. I stuffed George's things into my messenger bag after he offered to carry the weighty metal container all by himself. It was a very gentleman-like gesture, and I was tempted to feel his forehead for a rampant fever. The dungeons was the absolute last place either of us wanted to visit on the planet. It was dark and dreary, infested with Slytherins and an overall buzz kill. I imagined dementors would vacation in such a place and come back with a tan.

Snape was amid his next class with the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins when George and I arrived, knocking apprehensively before entering the dimly lit classroom, if you could even call the bloody place a classroom. Snape appeared extremely displeased that George and I were the source of the knock on his door, he made sure to make that perfectly clear with his eye roll and loud sigh at the sight of us. Fourth year eyes followed up as we passed by several desks, curious even though they were supposed to be making some sort of potion in their pairs. I spotted Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode sending me nasty looks, only urging me to make a very inappropriate gesture involving my lengthiest of fingers when Snape turned away from us.

"What is it?" asked Snape curtly.

I hadn't noticed Harry near the front of the room for some reason, far from his mates. I guessed he had gotten himself in some sort of trouble, easy to do in Potions.

"Oh, hey there, Harry," I smiled.

"I believe it is safe to say that your presence has nothing to do with socializing," said Snape coldly.

"Of course not," said George with a condescending undertone in my defense. "Everyone loses their desire to do something so ghastly as to socialize in your presence, Professor."

"Watch your tongue, Weasley," the greasy git replied.

"Physically impossible," he smirked.

"I'll keep an eye on it for him," I grinned coyly up at him from the corner of my eye. "It's such a pretty tongue."

George snorted a laugh and stuck his tongue out at me, earning an identical response from me in return.

"For the love of Merlin, what do you want?" said Snape, breathing a heavy sigh as I caught sight of Harry biting back a laugh.

"Professor Vector asked up to bring by these extra ingredients," I replied finally. "We're supposed to wait to make sure everything is accounted for."

"Very well," Snape frowned, snatching the cauldron from George's hands and slamming it on the table.

Snape pulled the list Professor Vector had included inside the cauldron, along with his quill and began tediously counting and checking off all of the included items. I looked over to Harry and raised my eyebrows to him as if to ask what had happened. He rolled his eyes in return and tilted his head back at Draco Malfoy and his moronic neanderthal friends. I made a face to acknowledge my disgust and understanding to his situation and took a seat beside Fred at the empty table beside Snape's desk to wait.

Suddenly, there was a second knock on the dungeon door.

"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice, not looking up from his checklist.

The class looked around as the door opened, including George and I. Igor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated. He didn't notice my presence as my jaw became rigid, my eyes narrowed. I suddenly felt George's hand over my clinched fist under the tabletop. I looked over at him as he sent me an affectionate glance and my muscles relaxed. I focused my attention solely on eavesdropping.

"We need to talk," said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist. I was listening hard along with George and undoubtedly Harry beside us. Snape still did not give Karkaroff the social grace of eye contact, choosing to concentrate on his ingredients instead.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After the lesson," Snape snapped.

Karkaroff looked extremely worried, and Snape looked angry though he fought to hide it. Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk, he seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away before his very eyes. The rest of the class seemed disinterested in Karkaroff's presence now and Snape chose to finally look upon the huge Bulgarian bastard as he neared the end of the cauldron contents.

"What's so urgent?" Snape hissed at Karkaroff.

"This," said Karkaroff, and the three of us eavesdroppers, peered around the edge of his cauldron, spotting Karkaroff pull up the left-hand sleeve of his robe and show Snape something on his inner forearm.

"Well?" said Karkaroff, still making every effort not to move his lips. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since –"

"Put it away!" snarled Snape, his black eyes sweeping the classroom. He sent Harry, George and I equally nasty looks that caused us to momentarily pretend to be hypnotized by the wooden tabletops before us.

"But you must have noticed–" Karkaroff began in an agitated voice.

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" spat Snape, looking to me and George as if he'd forgotten why we were still in his presence. "Weasley! McKinnon! What are you doing?"

"_Still_ waiting for you to finish accounting for Professor Vector's ingredients, Professor," said George innocently, straightening up.

It was the sound of my name that caused Karkaroff to notice my presence. He appeared even more nervous and jittery at the sight of me. I glared at him relentlessly, and he visibly swallowed hard. Karkaroff turned on his heel and strode out of the dungeon. He looked both worried and angry.

"Everything is accounted for," said Snape hastily.

"But Professor, it is still full of–" I began for no other reason but to give him grief.

"I said you are dismissed," he hissed viciously. "Now get out of my sight!"

George and I hurried out of Snape's classroom, slamming the door behind us.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?" asked George as soon as we were out of earshot from Snape.

"I don't know," I shrugged, "but ole Igor certainly seemed upset about something. I just wonder what it has to do with Snape... come to think of it... I remember seeing them in heated conversation the night of the Yule Ball as well..."

"Could you... you know...?" said George, raising and lowering his eyebrows.

"No," I frowned. "I'd have to be able to touch him to read his mind. And I'm not a master of Occlumency yet, but maybe I could find a way to bump into him to at least get a brief understanding of what's going on with him and Snape."

"It would make sense someone like Snape would be associated with someone like Karkaroff," said George in a dry tone. "You know, one being a serial killer and the other wishing he was."

–

I arrived at the library five minutes early to meet Cedric the following night only to find him already sitting anxiously in a far corner. He had a few class required Divination books opened to their perspective pages along with several he had obviously borrowed from the library and bookmarked to boot. He held a freshly ink dipped quill in one hand and a new roll of parchment in the other. I smirked at the handsome Hufflepuff before he realized I was approaching. With a wave of my wand I caused all of the books on the tabletop to slam shut and gracefully organize themselves onto a proper pile beside the desk we intended to share. Cedric was taken aback for a second but quickly looked up and realized what exactly had occurred. I smiled and pulled out a seat across from him, placing my messenger bag on the desktop.

"You can't learn anything useful about Divination with books," I said. "I, my overachieving Hufflepuff friend, have provided us with any and everything you will need to master the mysterious art of Divination."

I pulled out my crystal ball, a collection tea leaves, a horoscope chart, tarot cards and the bones of a crow from my bag and laid them out between the two of us. Cedric had undoubtedly seen the items before in class, but I think he was mildly surprised I had each of them in my possession. I'd nicked the cards several years ago for fun and the rest were gifts from Cassandra.

"What are some of the things you struggle with?" I asked.

"The list of things I don't struggle with would be shorter," said Cedric shyly. "I can manage horoscopes though, that's about the extent of it."

"What if we start with the very basics and move on at a pace you're comfortable with," I smiled kindly.

He nodded in reply, reminding me of an anxious child who was excited to listen to his grandfather tell a story. I reached out and picked up the tarot cards that were stored in a shiny deep violet scarf and shuffled them easily between my fingers. I then cut the deck and then created a four card spread in a diamond shape. When I was finished I waved my hands once above the cards and looked up at the eager Cedric.

"Alright," I began slowly. "The card at the top of the diamond represents romance, the card to the right is for finances, the left for ambitions and the final card represents health and happiness. The trick is remembering the meanings of each designated card."

I turned over the left card first as a rule and identified the meaning.

"For example, the Eight of Wands," I explained. "This card is supposed to imply an approaching final goal or journey."

"That makes sense," said Cedric. "The third task is coming up."

"But not all cards make sense or remain true," I continued. "I mean, to be honest, Ced, most of these resources are moronic. Divination cannot truly be mastered be anyone besides Seers, horoscopes are about as close as anyone without the gift of Sight will ever come."

"Then why are you wasting your time helping me?"

"Because Professor Trelawney doesn't think that way," I replied. "I'm just going to tutor you enough to manage the grade you want in her class. It's not too difficult to trick the ole bat into believing you know what you're talking about."

"Alright," he nodded in reply.

"Great, and I lied about you not needed any books by the way," I smirked, "but that was a grand introduction wasn't it? Here."

I lifted two slim paperback books from my bag and slid them over to him. He lifted up the books and read the titles aloud.

"_Cartomancy for Idiots_ and _Dream Definitions for the Dimwitted_," he scoffed.

"Enjoy," I said, grinning. "You'll need to start keeping a dream journal, just scribbling down bits you remember. I'll help you interpret the nonsense meanings and use the other book as a guide for the cards. I'll lend you my deck until you have the memorized."

"Thanks, Win, really," he smiled.

"Don't mention it, Diggory," I nodded, flipping over the right card. "Back to the cards... as for your finances you got 'The Emperor' which can mean stability and empowerment. As for your romance card it shows 'The Tower' which implies a sudden change or an abrupt abandonment of a relationship."

"That doesn't sound like me," said Cedric.

"Well, I told you the cards lie," I replied.

"But you are a Seer, Winnie," he said logically. "Shouldn't the cards work for you?"

"I lie far more than a deck of cards, Diggory," I teased, trying to avoid his reasoning. "What do you take me for, an honorable human being? Strong lapse in judgment, I thought better of you than that."

"Shut it and go on," he laughed, forgetting his prior inquisition. "How happy am I going to be?"

"Let's see..." I teased, waving my hands whimsically over the final card in jest before finally flipping it. I didn't interpret the card immediately as I had the others. I couldn't do anything but mindlessly stare down at the grim reaper.

"What is it?" asked Cedric, straightening up to chance a peek at the last card.

"Death," I replied. Cedric gulped, audibly so and sat back down in his seat. I sent him a fleeting smile. "See I told you these cards are rubbish."

"Yeah," Cedric managed to choke out.

I hurriedly shoveled the cards back into a neat pile and forced myself to look up at Cedric's worried expression again. Maybe a Seer as a Divination tutor wasn't such a good idea after all. There is truth in having too much of a good thing. Maybe what I did wasn't even a good thing to begin with.

"How about we skip ahead to Tessomancy?" I suggested with a helpless smile. "Reading tea leaves is slightly less moronic than reading silly cards, we can come back to Cartomancy next time."

"Sure," said Cedric quietly in agreement, "or never works just as well."

We did come back to the tarot cards during our next meeting and Cedric received the card of death no less than six times in a row. I had to convince him I had picked the card as a prank to calm his nerves, but I only successfully transferred his uneasiness onto myself.

–

Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although she followed my advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded in the Gryffindor tower and shrieked insults at her for the whole house to hear. Even those people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry-Krum-Hermione triangle now. I could tell they were getting sick of telling people that their relationship was nothing more than platonic friendship. I could feel their pain. I used to receive a lot of grief about my relationship with the twins when we first arrived at Hogwarts before we were figured out.

"It'll die down, though," I told Hermione, "if you just ignore it… People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time. Don't worry."

"I know," said Hermione softly. "I just wish their disinterest would hurry up already."

Hermione with her legs and neck over the arms of the large comfortable chair (enormous book on her lap) in the Gryffindor common room. I sat with my back against the front of the chair on the floor while the twins, Lee and I played a game of Exploding Snap with Ron and Harry. I was losing and dreadfully so which explained my indifference to the match while the others were much more competitive.

"Speaking of the post," said Lee, nodding to the open window. Hermione grimaced at first, fearing for another Howler.

I hadn't seen Hedwig return from the Burrow since the beginning of Easter holidays. The elderly owl came bearing a package of Easter eggs that Molly had sent. The four Weasleys, myself and Harry received chocolate treats that were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken egg. Her face fell when she saw it. I affectionately patted her leg from behind me.

"Your mum doesn't read _Witch Weekly_, by any chance?" she asked quietly to the group of redheads.

"Yeah," said George, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."

Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg. She looked desperate to change the subject.

"Have you gotten any mail for your mention, Freddie?" asked Hermione.

"No," I replied. "The only people who would care about me in that instance would be Puddlemere fans and after their embarrassing loss to the Falcons today, I think my mob of hatemongers has significantly dwindled."

Fred flicked and exploding card in my face to grasp my attention suddenly.

"Your flying rat seems to be intent to sunbathe rather than join the party," said Fred, motioning towards the feathery little black fluff ball.

"Well, come in already, June," I sighed. "Are you trying for a tan or something?"

I swore she gave me a dirty look before conceding to fly inside and land on my bent knee, dropping a letter in my lap. I recognized the handwriting at once and smiled to myself as I tore open the envelope.

_Dear Winnie,_

_I see you've become popular with Rita Skeeter again. I thought you were adamant about avoiding the spotlight instead of thrusting yourself front and center? I have received a significant amount of grief from my opponents, and even my fellow teammates, because of that article, even more so than your prior media blunders. I wish you would realize, Winnie, that my competency on the pitch relies just as much on my ability to concentrate as my overall physical health. You must understand that I cannot afford to be distracted by such nonsense. I was on the receiving end of a horrendous barrage of ridicule throughout my most recent match which I can only conclude was the true reason we lost so terribly. Please refrain from slipping into the spotlight from now on, because your transgressions do not only effect yourself but me as well._

_Best Wishes,  
__Oliver_

My smile fell to a frown and no one seemed to notice but George, who had paused his next move in the game. He silently watched me at I slowly but carefully refolded the letter. I peered down at the message in my hand with some sort of sadistic disbelieving grin and released a quiet hollow laugh.

"No, Hermione," I take that back, I said so softly that I wasn't even sure she heard me. "The only hate mail I receive is from my boyfriend."

I stood up in an extremely calm matter, not even realizing I had dropped the envelope as I left.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron. "Not willing to suffer your inevitable defeat?"

I slowly, lethargically walked to the edge of the common room and up the staircase to the girls dormitories without another word. I was numb but in so much pain I could barely breathe. I sat down on the open windowsill, feeling the warm Spring air illuminate my cheeks. June fluttered in through the window, probably confused to why I abandoned her downstairs. She landed gracefully on my bent knee, tilting her adorable little head to the side as if to ask me what was the matter. I smirked at her, wishing I had bought her for myself, and gently scratched her feathers the way she liked me to.

"You must be the most adorably tiny bearer of bad news on earth, June Bug," I teased, poking her beak lightly with the tip of my pinky.

"You dropped this rubbish," said George, slipping in through the doorway behind Fred, their pink Sex Switching Shoe Soles poking out from under their trainers. He held Oliver's letter in his hand, and he and Fred had obviously already read the contents.

"Scoot over," said Fred.

He gently pushed me forward so he could sit behind me with his legs bent up on the stone windowsill. He pulled my back against his chest so I was sitting between his legs, wrapping his arms platonically around my torso. George plucked up June and positioned himself on the wooden nightstand against the windowsill so he could meet my gaze.

"I didn't ask for this, you know," I said indignantly after several long periods of silence. "I wish he would quit acting like I'm some sort of attention-hungry parasite."

"He had a bad game and was looking for someone to blame," said George logically. "You didn't deserve to be on the receiving end."

"You two just need to talk, face-to-face," said Fred. "This letter writing nonsense needs to end. You cannot carry on like this, only seeing each other every few months business."

"How do you propose I manage that?" I replied. "He's always busy, and I am not going out of my way to see him only to earn a dozen detentions when I return."

"Tomorrow," said George abruptly. "Puddlemere had a match today, so they will have a day off tomorrow. You could have him meet you in Hogsmeade."

"Who is to say he will even agree to come?" I scoffed.

"If he loves you like he says he does," said Fred poignantly, "he'll come."

–

_**A/N:**__ Well, I am just awful. There I go abandoning this fic for almost 2 whole months, and when I do finally update my chapter is mediocre at best. Forgive me, dedicated readers. I still adore you all as much as I adore this story. I could never abandon Winnie or the twins, never ever. I graduate from college and move on to graduate school soon, and I hope to write much more over the summer before I start up school again. I'm shooting to finish Part II by the second week of May and Part III by the first week of September. Fingers crossed. Thanks so much to all of you for sticking with me. You are my inspiration. I cannot gush about the lot of you enough. Again, thanks for your feedback and support._

_**PS: **__What did you think of the Cedric bit? I needed to incorporate him mildly into Winnie's life considering he is the first to die really. It would be awkward for her to be emotionally impacted by a loss of an acquaintance. Also, do you like her sort of big sister-little sister relationship I've started with Hermione? I think they sort of balance each other out, and I kinda like it a lot. What would you like to see happen before Part III? What would you like to change?_

_**PSS: **__Only 2 chapters left in Part II! Help me end with at least 550 reviews, and I will be oh so happy!_

_**Questions for you: **__What would you like to have the titles be for my next two sequels (Crossed Swords will probably be the title for Part V)? They must have the word "crossed" somewhere mixed in there._

_**Coming Soon:**__ Winnie and Ollie have an intense heart-to-heart, Cassandra enlightens Winnie with some seasoned Seer insight, Winnie finally has her first prophecy in front of a highly unlikely cohort, Cedric's tutoring continues, Winnie gets into trouble that costs her much more than a free afternoon, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

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_**WEEKEND WELCOMES**_

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_Thank you so much for reviewing to:_

_**kmkm89, Blazeflower, katennn, Mama-plays-to-win, Oli.B, OffensivePi, YouMeAtSiXRocksMyWorld, FredsLastLaugh, anonymous, the-wedding-planners-daughter, I ship klaine like a boss, megera**_

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_**Virginia Wolfe:**__ Thank you so much for your kind words! You know how much your feedback means to me=) I'm very glad you enjoyed the ginger flower bit because it was so brief that I didn't know if anyone would pick up on it or not. I'm also pleased to hear you like the Molly/Winnie scene too. Winnie's relationship with the whole Weasley family is most important to me besides her friendship with Fred and George. I wanted this fic to be more about friendship/family than romance, so we will see how I end up doing in that department. I'm glad you liked the story pimping bit, ha ha! Your fic is too good for people not to enjoy it! Thanks again, doll=)_

_**tonidepp16: **__Thanks so much for being awesome and reviewing so generously! I'm so happy you liked how ended Alicia/George and the Winnie/Marlene bit. That means a lot! && yes, Oliver will be showing who he really is soon enough! Thanks for your wonderful feedback again!_

_**K8YHALMAN:**__ Thanks for reviewing! George will eventually have a curt conversation with Alicia about what he thinks of her and their relationship in the near future. Get ready for that! Thanks so much for your feedback=)_

_**Takara Matsudaira:**__ Thank you so much! It was important for me to show Winnie living up to her mother's expectations. It would be completely out of character for her too cower like a baby, and I'm glad you like her for showing her true colors! I'm sorry I took so long to update by the way! Send Crookshanks after me! PS- I've made a mental note to check out your fic now!_

_**Fannypacked: **__You are a doll, thanks so much for the birthday wishes! I'm glad you liked the "Geranium & Patil Twin" line. I laughed at myself for that. Anyways, I have read that Prewett brothers fic & all of that author's stories for that matter. She is brilliant! That's where I get a lot of Marlene's personality from! Thanks for the suggestion and keep 'em coming! _

_**InsignificantBlimp:**__ Thanks for the review & don't send Fang after me! AH!_

_**Quidditchandsonicscrewdrivers:**__ Thanks so much for you feedback, love! I so appreciate it! I'm working on balancing Hermione's personality, and I will try to avoid the queen and stick to 'mione from now on=)_

_**Angel2u:**__ Oh no! That sounds like the worst eternity EVER! All because Winnie could marry Oliver... hm ;) Just kidding, love=) I'm sorry I took so long to update! Thanks again for the review!_

_**JillianFofillian:**__ Thanks for the birthday wishes, doll! I adore you! Oliver is being a prick, I agree=) Thanks so much for the feedback!_

_**WhatsGoingOn:**__ Thank you SO MUCH! You are such a dedicated reader/reviewer and I cannot thank you enough for it. I always feel so bad that these chapters take so long to finish, but I try and make them lengthy so I don't get too much hate for it! I can tell you that by the end of this series that Oliver and Winnie will definitely not hate each other at all... you'll see ;) Thanks so much again!_

_**KoKoMagena: **__Thanks for the birthday wishes! I may work my magic and come up with something you may like. Only time will tell ;) Thanks so much for reviewing!_

_**littledhampir13:**__ Honestly, that was one of my favorite reviews I've gotten on this fic all time! You are too kind, and I'm glad you are enjoying this read! I'm even more pleased that you like Winnie! I so appreciate your feedback! Thank you so much!_

_**FlamingSnowPaw:**__ Thanks so much for your feedback! I genuinely laughed out loud at a lot of it! I took that clever little quiz, and I think she passed though barely. I don't really remember now, but I loved the quiz so much! It was so interesting, so thanks for showing me that! In regards to Winnie and Ollie breaking up... it won't be in Part II, but Part III... anything can happen... well, Part VI too ;) Thanks again so very much, doll!_

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_**Review.**_


	15. Chapter 14: The Ginger Minger

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

_The Ginger Minger_

–

_To deny love is to deny yourself._

–

"She's making a huge mistake," said George to his brother as he trailed behind.

"That may be true, but it's her mistake to make, George," said Fred dryly, fiddling the letter he'd written to Ludo Bagman in his hands as he and his twin made their way to the Owlery.

Winnie had gone to meet Cassandra, inviting Cedric Diggory to see what really goes on at her sessions with intentions of helping him with the subject as well. She'd left in her dismal mood that had become her usual disposition without more than a handful of words to the twins, her best friends. And since Winnie had left the twins alone, Fred had written another letter to Ludo Bagman and George hadn't managed to shut up about their dear friend.

"We have to stop her from seeing him," said George. "He's been treating her like dirt for far too long."

"Then talk to her, do whatever you want," said Fred, rolling his eyes, "but I'm keeping my nose out of it."

"What – why?"

"Because whatever is going on between you and Freddie does not concern me," said Fred. "I'm not letting you coerce me into convincing her to sack Wood."

"But she listens to you – for whatever stupid reason," George argued.

"George," said Fred poignantly, ceasing his steps to turn his brother so abruptly that George nearly ran square into him. "I've already spoken to her about the two of you before. She's understandably uncomfortable about the idea of talking about you with me. I have no problem joking around about the subject, but you have to know that playing matchmaker to my best friend and my brother puts me in a rather awkward situation."

"But–"

"Listen," he continued, sighing heavily when he realized his point was not well taken, "it's obvious to me and everyone else for that matter that you fancy Freddie. Hell, she even knows it, George, but there is something keeping her from being with you–"

"Yeah, and it begins with Oliver and ends with Wood–"

"No, I don't mean Wood," said Fred slowly. "We're all she has, and she'd be taking a huge risk by being with you. Think about it, if things were to not work out then where would she be? She'd be stuck living with her ex-boyfriend, our little trio would go from perfection to shit, and Merlin forbid if Mum found out–"

"None of that would happen," he said.

"Denial isn't a good look for you," said Fred.

"I'm done debating this with you," said George indignantly as Fred took to his steady pace up the stairs again. "It's like talking to a brick wall."

"The most handsome brick wall you've ever seen," said Fred in jest.

"I'm only agreeing to that to compliment myself," said George with a slight smirk.

"But really, mate, I'm sorry I'm no help," said Fred. "Maybe try talking to Angelina about Freddie and–"

The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred said at the same time.

"Sending a letter," said Harry and George in unison.

"What, at this time?" said Hermione and Fred.

Fred grinned.

"Fine - we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us," he said. He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Harry glanced at it, but Fred, accidentally on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Fred said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door.

Hermione didn't move. "What's wrong with Winnie?" she asked.

The grin vanished from Fred's face. Harry saw George half glance at Fred, before smiling at Hermione.

"Nothing," said Fred easily.

"Didn't sound like that," said Hermione slightly.

Fred and George looked at each other.

"It's none of your business," said Fred, defending his brother's privacy.

"It is my business if something is wrong with Winnie," said Hermione.

"Told you, it's nothing," said George. He walked over to Fred, pulled the letter out of his hands, and began attaching it to the leg of the nearest barn owl. "You're starting to sound a bit like my dear older brother, you are, Hermione. Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect."

"Thank you," said Hermione, pretending George's insult was a compliment.

George carried the barn owl over to the window and it took off then turned around and grinned at Hermione.

"Why didn't you just borrow June?" asked Ron.

"June is off delivering Winnie's letter to Oliver," said Hermione astutely before either of the twins could.

"You two have appeared to become rather good little friends, haven't you?" Fred teased. "Tell me, do you two stay up and have sweaty pillow fights, practice kissing you hands and gossip about boys?"

A light bulb went off in George's head. He smiled wickedly to himself. He glanced over at Hermione who was still glaring at Fred. He cleared his throat, strode forward and slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"Hermione Granger," he said in a long droll.

She sent him a confused stare and shrugged off his arm.

"What?" she snapped.

"Could I borrow you for a moment?"

"For what?" she asked, nervously.

"For help with Astrology," said George.

"I'm not even taking Astrology," she said.

"Neither is he," said Ron, furrowing his brows. George sent him a nasty look which caused his younger brother to swallow his words.

"Well, whatever subject you feel like talking about," said George fiercely, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and leading her forcefully into the hall. He left Fred, Ron and Harry staring after them with confused expressions. George shut the door behind the two of them as Hermione pulled away from his grasp again.

"What's this all about?" asked Hermione. "If you're trying to pull me into helping you with one of your moronic pranks then you can give up now–"

"It's about Winnie," said George abruptly.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, suddenly very concerned.

George didn't know where to begin. He'd never had a one-on-one conversation with Hermione Granger before, nor had her ever sought out the assistance of girl besides Winnie. He swallowed hard and stepped back, leaning his back against the stone wall behind him.

"It's difficult to explain," said George quietly. "I'm not exactly comfortable talking about it..."

Hermione's eyes suddenly widened, staring indignantly up at the tall redhead as if she's just had a euphoric revelation. She took a swift step forward and clasped her hands together, smiling like a Cheshire cat up at him.

"I knew it," she grinned.

"What– wait, what did you know?" asked George, looking up at her with a bewildered expression.

"You like her!" she said as if she'd known it all along. "You fancy Winnie. You do, don't you?"

"Keep it down, will you?" he stammered. "And how did you know – no, I don't – did she tell you that–"

"It's alright, George, I'm no blabbermouth," she replied, "but why did you want to talk to me about it? I'm guessing that's what you wanted amidst your stammering nonsense."

George frowned and looked away reluctantly. This conversation had not gone the way he anticipated already. He didn't reply immediately, choosing to gnaw on his next words.

"I think she's making a huge mistake, trying to fix things with Wood," said George. "I think he's been treating her like shit for far too long. I think it's time for a change."

"And by change you mean _ex_change, don't you?" she said. "Oliver for you?"

"You don't know what it's like," said George, pushing himself off the wall beside the descending stone staircase and strode to the opposing window, looking through the window and catching a glimpse of Winnie speaking fervently to Cassandra high above in the window of the Clock Tower. "You don't know what it's like to care for your best friend, to have to suppress your feelings because your friendship means more to you than anything."

"I can imagine," said Hermione so quietly that George didn't hear her.

"I've tried for so long to deny my feelings, to try to get over her, but I just can't," he sighed, watching Winnie twirl her necklace in the window above, wondering what was on her mind. "I can't do it anymore, Hermione. I saw her face when she read that letter this afternoon. It keeps replaying over and over in my head. When I saw the pain in her eyes... I can't bare to see her hurt. All Oliver has done is break her, he's completely broken my best friend, and I know that if I don't act now that the time will never come."

Hermione looked at her best friend's older brother with a very sad expression. She could feel his pain, hear the sorrow in his voice, the voice that was usually full of life and jest. She tentatively stepped forward and placed her small hand on his shoulder.

"A year ago – just one measly year ago, she would have never allowed anyone to treat her the way Oliver has been treating her and get away with it with all their teeth," said George, his back still to Hermione. "That's why I love her, but he's taken that untamed spirit of hers and broken her."

"George–"

"Do you think it'd be a mistake?" George interrupted suddenly, turning around to look dead into Hermione's eyes. "Do you think it would be a mistake to tell her how I feel, to ask her to give up Oliver... for me?"

"I think that it is better to risk everything and be disappointed than to risk nothing and always wonder," said Hermione. "If it is meant to be then... it is meant to be, as cliché as that sounds. But, George, something tells me it is."

George allowed a quiet smile grace his handsome face.

"You know, you're alright, Granger," said George.

"Always the tone of surprise with you Weasleys," said Hermione, smirking.

–

I had listened to Fred _for once._ I wrote Oliver. I told him when to meet me and where. I told him that our entire relationship was in the balance, and if he chose not to show up then I knew where I stood – in his shadow. He didn't reply, though I didn't expect him to – not really. I would show up at the foretold location (The Hog's Head), and I would wait, wait for fifteen minutes. If he didn't come then it was over between us, and if he did come – well, there were no guarantees there either.

I tried to keep my mind on other things. I was scheduled to share a session with Cassandra that evening, and I invited Cedric to attend as well. He'd made some significant improvement in the subsets of Divination that could be mastered by those without the gift of Sight, and I wanted to see if Cassandra could help him succeed as well. Cedric and Cassandra seemed to get along very well for the very beginning, it was hard not to considering they were both very likeable people. I wasn't all that agreeable that evening, however, for obvious reasons and I could tell they both sensed it. I felt embarrassed about my bad mood, I'd never allowed anyone to make me feel so bad about myself before.

It was as if I was drowning, unable to concentrate on anything I should be concentrating on. There was one image that kept replaying in my mind, George's face when I finished reading the letter Oliver had written me. He looked so utterly concerned, so bothered by my dismay for no other reason besides the fact that I am his friend, his_ best_ friend. Fred's kind words stuck with me as well, but there was something about George's expression that almost haunted my being. I had an urge at that very moment to propel myself into his arms with no intentions of ever letting go, and yes, I am completely aware of how disgustingly mushy gushy that sounds. I'm not ashamed of it though, for some reason I'd embrace the lovey dovey crap with George. I released a heavy sigh and looked up from my seat on the stone floor, apparently both Cassandra and Cedric had been trying to grasp my attention for quite some time.

"Child, where has your head been tonight?" asked Cassandra.

"You're a Seer, you tell me," I said crudely, but backtracked when I saw her face fall. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I just have a lot of things on my mind."

"It's alright, granddaughter," she replied. "What if we practice just a quick, simple drill and you and Mister Diggory turn in."

I nodded and Cedric smiled fleetingly to me as he helped me to my feet. I'd been trying to master longer lengths of specific instances of time that I could peer into people's futures. I'd managed six months, but I was trying to get a year down. I was supposed to be clearing my mind while Cassandra helped Cedric use a crystal ball, but I had done the complete opposite. I decided to wing it. I clapped my hands together, rubbing them together and wiggling my fingers as I approached Cedric.

"Alright, one year, let's see," I said, gently but firmly placing my fingers on either side of his head. I closed my eyes and took a deep intake of breath. I waited a moment and to my complete and utter surprise I saw nothing but blackness. I didn't give up, gripping Cedric's skull a bit tighter. Nothing. Finally, I released his head and stepped back with a determined yet baffled expression as I looked to Cassandra. "I can't do it."

"Try six months then, Winifred," said Cassandra, "You have already mastered that. We can just have a warm up for now and try again next week when you are in a better state of mind."

I nodded and repeated my motions. Alright, six months was nothing hard for me now. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and... nothingness again.

"Ugh!" I exclaimed in a frustrated tone, stepping back and collapsing against the windowsill behind me. "All I see is black. I must be too distracted, too much on my mind. I'm sorry."

Cassandra looked at me for a very long time before looking onto Cedric, who was looking a bit awkward now. Cassandra strode forward to Cedric and placed one of her ancient wrinkled palms on his cheek. She appeared to be surveying him, tilting his head from side to side as if to examine his face for any flaws. There of course were none. She looked worried, nearly as worried as she had looked when she found me lying lifelessly in the snow several months ago. She did not speak a word but finally released Cedric after a couple uncomfortable minutes of Cedric being too gentlemanly to pull away from the old loon.

"You best get to your chambers now, boy," she said eerily. "It's getting late, Winifred will see you soon."

"Yes, mam," said Cedric, clearing his throat uneasily. "See you, Freddie, and thank you both."

"Cheers, Ced," I waved halfheartedly.

As soon as Cedric was out of eye and ear shot, Cassandra turned back to me with a blank expression.

"What did you see?" she asked.

"I told you," I replied, motioning with my hands. "I couldn't see anything."

"Did you see nothing, or did you see blackness?" she asked swiftly.

"Is there a difference?" I asked.

"There is an enormous difference," she said urgently.

I gave her the once over and took to my feet, pacing back and forth and trying to think clearly.

"Blackness," I said with confidence finally, peering over at her amid my pacing. "It was like I felt the way I usually do when I give a reading, but I couldn't see anything."

"That's what I was afraid of," she sighed.

"What's the matter?"

"I fear the reason that you were unable to see Mister Diggory's future is because he has none," she said.

"You mean–"

"I mean, you need to keep an eye on him," she replied. "I believe he may be in great danger."

I instantly clutched my necklace, turning away and looking out onto the courtyard from above. This news was the absolute last thing I needed to hear.

"Are you certain?" I breathed.

"The future is never certain, child," she insisted, "sometimes fate has other plans."

–

Katie insisted I borrow a couple items from her closet to "avoid looking like something the cat dragged in," her words, not mine. So I strolled down to Hogsmeade under a graying sky with the twins, Lee and Angelina in my tattered jeans and Katie's tan corduroy jacket and green tunic. Angelina had also forced my hair into a thick yet manageable side braid that fell down my chest before forcefully pasting make-up on my bare face. I had to admit it, my friends were absolutely marvelous.

"I just don't see why you had to get all dolled up," said George quietly as we fell behind the others on our way to the small village of Hogsmeade. "You should never have to pretend to be someone else for anyone."

"I know that," I replied, "but the girls suggested I don't look like my usual mess–"

"You never look like a mess," George interrupted, looking at me with a severe expression. My words became suddenly caught up on my throat. I looked down at the ground for a minute, catching my bearings, and forced a smile back up him after clearing my throat a bit awkwardly.

"What's changed?" I asked with a cheeky grin. "When it comes to insults to my looks, I think you are the chairman of the "Winnie is a Wreck Committee."'

"Nothing's changed," he defended, feeling Fred's glance back at us. "You know my teasing is all in good fun, just as I know yours is towards me."

"Well, I mean every word I say to you," I joked, nudging him playfully. "Seriously, when I call you a 'Ginger Minger' or a 'Matchstick,' I most definitely mean it."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said hollowly, "but honestly, Freddie, you should think about what you're about to do."

"What am I about to do exactly that is so troubling to you?" I asked airily, catching the silhouette of the Hog's Head in the distance. I nearly got whiplash from how suddenly George grabbed hold of my elbow and jerked me about to face him. His expression was severe but not the slightest bit threatening. He appeared almost desperate, or as close to desperate as I'd ever seen him look.

"Alright back there?" called Fred from the group further down the hill that was now frozen and staring curiously back at us.

"Fine," I called, "We'll catch up!"

Fred sent a disapproving glance back at us before begrudgingly leading the rest of our mates down to Hogsmeade. I couldn't blame him for being reluctant to depart after seeing the intense stare George was giving me just inches from me. I didn't pull away, I just matched his gaze.

"What's going on?" I asked. "You're acting mad."

"I'm not the mad one," he relied curtly.

"I'm not in the mood for games," I said, trying to pull away but failing.

"This isn't a game, Winnie," he pressed.

"George, what's wrong?" I asked. "You've been acting strange since yesterday."

"How can you look me in the eyes and seriously ask me that question?" he asked indignantly. "You know why I'm upset, and you just pretend to be oblivious."

"You think it should be over between me and Ollie," I conceded.

"I think it should have never begun," he sighed, "and that's not _just _what I mean."

"Then what is it, George? You know I'm rubbish at guessing games," I frowned. "You're going to make me late–"

"Be late!" he exclaimed, shaking my arm fiercely as if I'd just won twenty questions. "I _want _you to be late! I _want_ you to_ never_ show up!"

"What _would_ you have me do then?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Be with me," he said bluntly, taking me aback for a moment, "I am begging you not to go to the Hog's Head. I'm begging you to be with me instead."

"Stop this rubbish right now," I demanded.

"It's _not _rubbish," he insisted. "I mean it, you know I do and it _scares_ you to death. It_ scares_ you that you want to be with me just as much as I want to be with you._ Admit it_."

I looked deep into his eyes, my own eyes were as large as saucers. He was aching for my reply, yearning for the response he'd wanted for so long now. I wanted to give it to him, so terribly I did, but I couldn't for some reason formulate the words I wanted to say – _not yet_. After opening and closing my mouth several times, I swallowed hard and looked away because I knew I could never look him in the eye and say the one syllable I dreaded.

"No," I breathed.

"You don't mean that," he insisted.

"You're wrong," I replied. "I love Oliver, and I would do anything to make our relationship work."

"You shouldn't have to compare your relationship to a bloody chore," said George, speaking quickly. "You shouldn't have to work as hard as you do to stay with him. You wouldn't have to try with me, you know that's true."

"Relationships are never easy–"

"They are when you're with the person you're supposed to be with," said George swiftly.

"And how would you know that?" I asked coldly. "You're only girlfriend was an utter shrew. You have nothing to compare it to."

"I compare it to you," said George. "I compare every girl to you, but it's hard – harder than you could ever know because you're incomparable. No one _compares _to you, nothing _compares_ to what we have. What we have, Freddie – what we have is_ easy_. You and me – we're Winnie and George. We're supposed to end up together, and you know it as well as I do."

"Why must you always do this?" I snapped. "You pick the most inopportune time to–"

"To what, Win," he snapped, "to be honest with you?"

"You know exactly what I mean–"

"No, I don't think I do," he seethed. "You'd prefer me sit around on my hands like your eager little lapdog."

"That is a lie!" I spat. "I treat you the same as I do Fred! You're my best friend, and I would never treat you like that."

"I don't want to _just _be your friend anymore, Winnie, don't you see?" he sighed. "It kills me to know I can't have you, and it's even worse knowing someone else can."

"George–" I began, placing my free palm gently on his cheek, but he jerked his head away almost immediately.

"Don't," he insisted. "Don't treat me like some pathetic little schoolboy who aches for a cinder of your bleeding affection. I'm more than that to you, so don't act like I'm not."

"I would never–" I objected.

"You would never what, Freddie," he snapped, "act like you're completely ignorant to the fact that I am so utterly and unequivocally, heels over head in love with you that I can barely stand it? Because that's exactly what it feels like."

My lower lip trembled slightly as I met his eyes again. Had George just admitted to being in love with me? I blinked several times as if I expected to wake up from a dream. This, unlike so many other similar visions, was reality.

"You _love_ me?" I breathed.

"Don't gloat about it," he half-smirked, "I'm no more happy about it that you are."

I didn't reply, choosing to just stare up at him with a blank expression. He looked ashamed to have told me his true feelings. He finally released my forearm and stepped back slightly, resembling a dog with its tail between its legs. He looked down at his shoes , awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. I knew exactly how he felt, he felt exposed. His walls had fallen, and he was vulnerable to rejection – to_ my_ rejection. He opened his mouth to either apologize or to take it back, but I moved too quickly. I slouched down to fit under his bent neck and stood on my tiptoes, swallowing his words. To this day I don't know what made me do it, to act so impulsively. I placed my palms on either of his cheeks and kissed his lips in a slow but poignant manner. When I pulled away after several seconds, his face followed mine and his eyes finally reopened. His expression was unreadable initially, almost too shocked to react. I looked deep into his blue eyes and smiled softly.

"I love you too, you great stupid git," I said quietly, "as much as I hate to admit it – and I_ really_ do."

George smiled so genuinely that I felt my insides grow warm. He took a hefty intake of breath and took my face in his hands and kissed me much more fervently this time 'round. He pulled away first, smiling against my mouth. He didn't release my face as our foreheads rested upon the other's. He was bent over as far as he could possibly go while I was on the very tips of my toes. Our inequalities sort of fit, fit just right.

"For months," I whispered. "For months I've been convincing myself there was something wrong with me, something _I_ was doing wrong to cause Oliver and I to drift apart. I knew though, deep down, that something else was at fault. I just never wanted to admit that the reason Oliver and I have been struggling is because whatever it was we had is gone. It wasn't always you, George, but it always will be. _Always_."

"You can't even begin to imagine how long I've been wanting to hear you say that," he breathed.

"I've been scared," I said, "and_ I am_ scared. What we have now – you, Fred and I – it's so special, so perfect that I couldn't bare if anything jeopardized–"

"Nothing," he said, holding my face a bit tighter. "Nothing _could ever_ or _will ever_ change what we have. I won't let it."

I nodded and sent him a fleeting smile, "What now?"

"Why don't we go up and figure things out in the Clock Tower?" he suggested earnestly. "We can be alone and talk things out and–"

"What about Oliver?"

"What about him?" George replied as if I had already snapped my fingers and made Oliver disappear. "Just stand him up, he'll get the picture."

"You know I can't do that," I said, shaking my head. "If he did that to me – how awful? We've been together for nearly two years, George, I owe it to him to at least end things in person. It's only right."

He smiled quietly and nodded, kissing my forehead before releasing me.

"Would you want me to go with you?" he asked kindly. "I don't want you to have to go it alone."

"That's very sweet," I grinned, pinching his cheek affectionately, "but I need to do this alone. Besides, I doubt you showing up would make things any easier. You and Ollie haven't been on the best of terms as of late anyway."

"Alright, alright," he chuckled. "I'll wait for you in the Clock Tower then. When it's over – just meet me up there."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll see you in a bit."

George smiled broadly and leaned in to kiss me once more, filling me with the same euphoric feeling I always experienced when our skin touched. I stared after him for a moment longer, watching how there was a fresh skip in his step as he jogged back up the hill to the castle. Then I peered down at the Hog's Head as the threatening clouds above became much more ominous. Maybe I was witnessing an omen to what was about to come.

–

I was ten minutes late to meet didn't matter. He never showed up. I waited until it was an hour after we were supposed to meet. I sat utterly alone besides Abe and his friendly yet equally smelly goat named Phillip. I didn't feel the slightest bit alone, however. My heart was pounding within my chest, aching to leave the pub and depart to exactly where I was supposed to be. When the clock struck an hour late I gathered my things, dodging the enchanted bird from the coo coo clock as I tossed a couple coins to Abe on my way out the door. I didn't run to the clock tower, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't walking as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a dead sprint.

When I began to climb the stairwell to the clock tower a million thoughts engulfed my mind. I wondered if I was making a mistake, what I had done to end my relationship with Oliver, what he was doing opposed to seeing me, what George was thinking, what Fred and everyone else for that matter would think, what would happen if Molly found out, if that was even really happening. I was half out of breath when I reached the clock tower. A giddy smile graced my lips when I spotted George, standing indifferently, as he faced the doorway without really looking at it. I jogged towards him and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tight. He only partially hugged me back. I pulled back and peered up at him with a curious expression as my right hand fell down in his arm and laced itself in his. He looked down into my eyes for a quick second before returning to the same spot positioned next to the doorway as he had when I'd entered moments prior.

"What's wrong, G–"

"You were right, Weasley," said a familiar male voice that surprised me so much that I nearly jumped from my trainers, "she did come."

I skidded around, keeping my hand tight in George's to come face-to-face with Jasper McQueen beside Professor McGonagall. He didn't seem disturbed at the sight of my whole hugging George because I was sure was because he wasn't surprised. However, McGonagall had known us for years, and I knew instantly that she could tell something was different with that embrace – something far from platonic. Her eyes also slowly drifted down my arm and locked upon our laced fingers. She cleared her throat and looked away after a couple judgmental seconds.

"W–What's going on?" I asked skittishly. "What are you doing here?"

"Miss McKinnon, Mister McQueen has come baring grave news," she said in a voice that I reckoned would have sounded much more sincere if she hadn't just seen what was meant to be an intimate moment between George and I, "about Oliver Wood – your significant other."

"Ollie?" I gasped, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. "What's the matter with him?"

"There was an accident," said Jasper, stepping forward as my stomach climbed into my throat to nest, "today at the optional scrimmage the lot of us scheduled for this morning."

"What sort of accident?" I choked.

"Wood took a Bludger to the side of the head about twenty feet up," he explained as my knees buckled. "I don't know what was going on with him. He was distracted, barely able to block half the goals. I'd never seen him so off his game. He'd told us that he had to cut out early to meet you, so maybe he was anxious to see you. I don't know, but when he was shouting 'goodbye' to us... he just didn't see it coming... it was just an accident... he shouldn't have turned away..."

"Well, is he alright?" I snapped frantically. "Where is he now?"

"St. Mungos," said Jasper. "He's in a lot of pain, coming in and out of consciousness there for awhile. The healers put him under until they can even start to mend his cracked skull... I guess your skull is different from other bones when it comes to healing. He kept asking for you before they put him under, calling for you. He was pretty distraught and delirious, but I knew he did want you by his side above all others – no matter the delirium. And I knew you'd want to know of course–"

"What Mister McQueen is trying to say is – he's come to bring you to St. Mungos to see Mister Wood," said McGonagall, interrupting Jasper's nervous and shell shocked ramblings. I looked from McGonagall back to Jasper, noticing for the first time a generous stain on his pant leg that I recognized to be blood. "You may stay as long as necessary, but I encourage you to at least return for your weekly classes. My fireplace is offered to you with no restrictions. I only ask you wish send Mister Wood my regards."

"We should hurry," said Jasper, taking another determined steps forward and reaching for my hand. I jerked backwards and glared at him.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, gripping George's hand tightly as I half hid behind him, "this is just some trick."

"It's not," he said, striding towards me. However, George pressed his free hand against Jasper's chest to refuse him access to me. He glared at McQueen in a more threatening manner than before. "Get off me, Weasley."

"Do not touch her," he said so fiercely that McGonagall didn't hear.

"Aw, scared I'm going to steal away another one of your ladies, are you?" he said in a shallow whisper. George narrowed his gaze even more so.

"You're welcome to Alicia. I'm just glad to be rid of her," he hissed, "but I don't trust you, McQueen. How are we to know that you're not tricking Winnie into some media–"

"He is not," said McGonagall, pulling Jasper away from George's outstretched hand. "Mister Wood's parents wrote to me as well. I don't know what sort of history is between the three of you, and I don't want to, but I can assure you that Mister McQueen speaks the truth. He is here to take you to see Oliver."

It was like our lands separated in slow motion, slipping from each other's grasp like some dramatic gesture. I pulled my released hand to my chest, clutching my chest and backing backwards until my back hit the stone wall. What had I done? I'd kissed George, confessed my affection for him with the idea that Oliver and I were over... and now I realize the only reason he didn't show up to meet me was because he'd gotten injured because he was distracted... most likely thanks to me. I'd done this, I was responsible. I fought the urge to vomit, realizing how truly awful I was, how huge of a mistake I had made. My hand slowly crawled from my chest to my mouth as I began shaking my head.

"Is he going to be alright?" I asked.

"The healers are optimistic," said Jasper, "but it was a hard blow, Winnie, I've never seen anything like it."

"He'd taken a Bludger to the head before though," I explained. "Remember, Professor?"

"He didn't fall from the sky afterwords," said McGonagall. "Professor Dumbledore levitated him in the air until he landed, thank Merlin."

"This is real?" I breathed. "He– he's really hurt."

"Yes, Winifred," said McGonagall poignantly. "He is really hurt."

"We should get going," said McQueen.

"Mister Weasley, would you like to escort Miss McKinnon as well?" asked McGonagall kindly.

"That isn't necessary," said Jasper swiftly, earning a tight-lipped scowl from McGonagall.

"Oh, I think it is," she replied just as swiftly in return.

"No, he wouldn't want t–" I began.

"Of course I'll go with her," said George without looking at me. "We're best_ friends_, and she needs me right now."

"Good, let's go," said McGonagall, motioning for us to depart.

George turned back to look at me for the first time. He didn't say anything as I looked up at him like some sort of wounded animal, my hair in my face and my expression desperate and confused. I had never felt quite so stupid and quite so terrible in all my born days. I'd hurt both George and Oliver inadvertently and now was faced with a situation that had been the pink elephant in the room since Oliver and I first grew closer. I was forced into a final decision: Oliver or George? It wasn't that simple either, nothing ever was anymore. When George lifted me into an erect position and led me towards McGonagall's chambers it was like the was a yearning between us, like each of us had the unyielding urge to embrace but knew how inappropriate such a decision would be.

Jasper, George and I departed through McGonagall's hearth and landed in the lobby of the hospital. George's arm remained around my waist though he didn't speak a syllable to me, and I returned the favor. There was nothing to say, really. Jasper led us to the upper levels of the hospital while I was practically dragged by the tall redhead beside me. I knew we'd reached Oliver's room when I spotted Aggie and Liam in the hallway opposing the open doorway. Aggie was sobbing into her husband's chest while the remaining members of Puddlemere sat against atop the benches lining the white walls. When we approached the players sent me fleeting, sympathetic grins to which I did not return.

"Hey, Win," said Mick O'Neil, rising to his feet to walk over and hug me. Aggie heard my name and turned to face me, tears streaming down her cheeks. She released her husband and engulfed me in an intense hug after Mick released me. Liam moved forward and half-hugged George for coming with me, whispering indistinguishable words into his ear, causing George to nod in reply.

"Oh, Winnie dear, I'm so happy you're here," she cried, drowning the crook of my neck in salty tears, I didn't hug her back or Mick for that matter, unable to move in general. "He was asking for you."

"Can I see him?" was all I managed to choke out.

Aggie pulled away and held my face before her own, smiling sadly through her tears, nodding towards the door.

"He's been coming in and out of consciousness," said Aggie tearfully, "but I'm sure he knows we're here."

I nodded and looked back at George with doe eyes before slinking into Oliver's room.

"Why don't you go in with her, son," said Liam to George. "She's going to need some support when she first sees him."

"I don't think I should–" he began, but Liam would hear no objections and shoved him in after me, shutting the door behind us. He immediately turned back to the door that slammed in his face. Sighing in defeat, he turned back around to face Oliver's bed and slid beside the door, out of sight from those outside. He looked out of place, uncomfortable and I could hardly blame him. He fixated his eyes upon his tattered trainers, sneaking an uneasy glance up at me every few seconds. I approached Oliver's bed as if I was frightened to see him, which was exactly what I was. I couldn't bring myself to look back at George. I didn't want to see his expression, and I didn't want him to see mine.

I gasped when I finally saw Oliver's face up close. I barely recognized him, his face was swollen and bruised black and blue beyond recognition. His arm was in a sling from his fall and a fare amount of stitches lingered under the thick wrap of bandages that encircled his entire head above his brows. I carefully sat upon his bedside, shivering as I slowly took his scratched up hand in mine. I kissed his knuckles gently before rubbing the back of his hand against my cheek. He looks so weak and broken, so unlike his strong stature to which I was accustomed. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. There were a million different things I wanted to say to him, to confess, but only three escaped my trembling lips.

"I'm so sorry," I breathed quiet enough to avoid George's wandering ears, "for everything."

I could feel George's eyes staring at the back of my head, but I went on.

"You've been so good to me for so long, and I was too quick to just write you off," I said softly, peering down at him with his hand still against my cheek. "I should have been more understanding, less self absorbed, blaming our recent distance on you."

I looked back at George over my shoulder. He'd been looking directly at the back of my head as I'd expected, but he turned away instantly as soon as he met my eyes, an expression of shame across his handsome face. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else in the world than right there, right now. I locked my eyes on the ground beside Oliver's bed, releasing a heavy breath.

I couldn't look at Oliver's face when I whispered to him again, "I fear– I fear I've made an enormous mistake."

"Stop this," said George suddenly, breaking his tense silence and striding determinedly towards me.

"What?"

"Do not take back everything you said," he hissed. "Don't you dare pretend to regret everything that happened between us just because Oliver had an accident and you feel guilty because of it!"

"Shut up," I said quietly, looking back towards the floor.

"This–" he said fiercely, pointing his index finger to Oliver's unconscious frame. "This changes nothing!"

"It changes everything!" I objected, releasing Oliver's hand swiftly and taking to my feet, standing directly in front of George to look up at him. "I did this! He is in that bed because of me!"

"Spare me your ignorant self-loathing," he said coolly.

"It's the truth," I whispered. "If I hadn't written to him then none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have been distracted, he wouldn't have been rushing–"

"You cannot honestly blame yourself for what happened," said George in disbelief. "If you blame yourself for his off day then you're only agreeing with him on every account before now, letting him place his shitty matches on your shoulders. If you really believe this is in anyway your fault, then you two idiots deserve each other."

"You don't understand–"

"Oh, I understand," he seethed. "You are all roses and sunshine now that Oliver's hurt and you feel guilty for being honest. You're going to go ahead and carry on this happy little public facade as if this afternoon never happened. You're going to keep pretending you don't have feelings for me, like I'm your lovesick little sidekick."

"What would you have me do, George?" I spat. "Would you prefer I abandon him now, when he needs me most? Should I just sack him now or should I just wait for him to be at least half conscious?"

"You're hurting him more by staying with him when you don't love him anymore," he replied.

"I don't know if that's really true," I replied, "maybe I was too harsh to make such a conclusion. I'm obviously still fond of him."

"You either love someone or you don't," said George. "It's not a debatable subject."

"Because you're the expert," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not here to argue with you," said George, frowning. "I came here because I knew this was going to be hard for you, and I knew you'd need me to be by your side, but I did not come here to sit like some stool pigeon and listen to you confess feelings you don't have to someone who isn't me."

"I'm not having this conversation now," I hissed. "It's not the time."

"It will _never_ be the time," said George coldly. "It is now or never, Winnie. You cannot keep expecting me to wait for you, to sit back on pins and needles until you come to your senses. If you deny your feelings for me now then I am finished trying to make things work between us. If you go back to Oliver then things between us can never be. I will find a way to make myself move on, and you won't have me to fall back to when you realize you and Oliver will never work."

"George–" I objected desperately.

"What's it going to be, Freddie?" he breathed firmly. "Are you going to stay with him or are you going to leave with me?"

"You know I can't leave him," I snapped, sitting down harshly beside Oliver again and taking his hand once more, "not like this."

"And you probably never will," said George mournfully. Without another word, George headed for the door and slammed it behind him.

_And I had never felt so utterly alone._

–

_**A/N: **__I bet about two thirds through this chapter you were like "OH MY GOD! IT IS HAPPENING! FINALLY!" then I squashed your hopes like a bug. Oliver and Winnie still have a ways to go in their relationship. Winnie feels like complete shit for acting like she did. It wasn't her fault, but she thinks it is. I hope I didn't make Winnie into too much of a villain in this chapter. You have to remember that she is just a seventeen year old girl who is too stupid and naïve to even begin to handle what is going on concerning her love life. But it's Freddie, she'll figure it out eventually._

_**PS: **__Thank you all so much for being patient with me. I graduated in the beginning of May, moved home, got a new job, bought an apartment, have been helping my sick grandma, while still trying to keep up somewhat of a social life. I hope this next chapter won't take me as long to write, but no promises other than it's completion before HP Part II comes to theaters. I anticipate the final chapter (the next one) to be EXTREMELY long. I have to tie up loose ends between George and Winnie, handle the Oliver situation, Task 3, Winnie prophecy action, __Oliver's death, introduce Sirius into the equation and a dozen other things, but I want to keep it at 15 chapters like Part I was. If it surpasses the length of the Yule Ball chapter then maybe we'll see two more instead. I also have to finish the Prologue for Part III so bare with me. Also, sorry for the misleading 'coming soon' from last chapter's end. I meant to put "Winnie and GEORGE have an intense heart-to-heart instead of Oliver," my bad. And forgive any and all of my typos. It's late, and I half-assed edited this. Forgive me, I'll fix it later._

_**PSS:**__ A special thanks to WhatsGoingOn for sticking with me and encouraging me to update as well as making me a banner that I CANNOT WAIT to see=) Love you, girl!_

_**HELP: **__To avoid going back and reading the last few chapters myself. I can't remember if I mentioned that Oliver and Jasper have become official roommates yet or not. Do any of you remember? I don't think I have, but if I have then I'm going to have to fix some intentions I have for the next chapter. Let me know if any of you recall._

_**Coming Soon: **__Winnie gets in trouble with Snape, Oliver slowly recovers, Winnie and Mick have an enlightening chat, George hold his ground, the final task brings heart ache and revelations, Winnie meets Sirius, Winnie has her first prophecy, things are put into perspective, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensure..._

–

_**MEMORIAL DAY MENTIONS**_

–

_Thank you so much for reviewing to: _

_**BeingMugglebornIsAPrivelage, OffensivePi, xXxCastielxXx, TheAudaciousButterfly, booklover555, jenny, FredsLastLaugh, hannahhhhhh, d112hpfan, KoKoMagena, JillianFofillian, Kath the Dreamer, tonidepp16, kmkm89, The Lieutenant Sarcasm, LuLu Reader, amberhathaway, Jillian Mastrano 101, Oli.B, Takara Matsudaira, restoringthehistory, Cherry Tree Blossoms**_

_**Singing-the-Travels:**__ I'm so sorry you have so many negative critiques about the story, but I will try to reply just as honestly and as best I can. First off, thanks so much for complimenting the chapter lengths. I find most readers who become frustrated due to lack of updates are less likely to grow restless when my chapters are long when I do finally update. I'm glad you like Winnie's tom boy tendencies and my avoidance of making her love interest just some bleep on the radar. I pride myself in developing their relationship. _

_Now for the negatives you spoke of, Alicia was always meant to be an idiot – intelligence wise. However, the reasoning behind her abrupt switch to psycho bitch will be explained later on if you give me some time. She's got some skeletons that will be exposed and she, like Oliver, will redeem their characters. About the book passages, I don't like writing Quidditch chapters or scenery-type instances. My theory is, if I am incapable of doing the scene justice then I will seek out J.K. for guidance. I would never do that for a dramatic or character personal scene, only unnecessary filler if that makes sense. Also, Winnie is in a number of scenes in which Harry is located which also tempts me to borrow scenery passages._

_Calling Winnie a Mary Sue really broke my heart. I don't think she is and neither do any of the other readers. She has her moments where she acts like a moron but most people do. She may have her Mary Sue moments, but I must defend her status as something so insulting to a writer of an OC. I took that Mary Sue test you suggested before and she passed it by like 2 points when I took it as her creator. And I think the very definition of a Mary Sue would be their incapability of being 'human' as you referred to her as, but I'm happy you like her despite thinking she's a "bland and too perfect of a person to be real (actual definition of a Mary Sue)."_

_Oliver has become a spotlight whore. He will remain that way for awhile until he comes to his senses, which he will. I do not have any intentions of ruining his character in the long run though he may appear of somewhat of a 'bad guy' for a little while. It won't last. I will try to make their trouble more of Winnie's fault, though she's done little wrong in reality._

_I am killing Cedric. Winnie will try to prevent it, but she'll be placed in a helpless situation with no way to stop what she knows will occur. I may have her visions prevent a death and maybe two but Cedric is not a significant character to the story to save, and I can't see myself bringing him back if I did save him because he was always a filler character to me._

_Anyways, I hope this answered some questions. I didn't mean to come off bitchy, not my intention at all. The Mary Sue thing just definitely rubbed me the wrong way. My main objective throughout this fic is to make Winnie real and relateable to the readers and to hear that she's a full on Sue was gut wrenching to hear from a reader. Well, hope to hear from you with the next chapter. Thanks for the constructive reviews. I appreciate it. _

_**Ieva:**__ Thanks so much! I have always tried to portray Fred and George's relationships with Winnie differently, and I'm so pleased you've noticed! Fred is much more brotherly and unrestricted while George is like that awkward but amazing boy who is a friend=)_

_**Locclair:**__ I literally laughed out loud at your review. I absolutely loved it! I expect a free hug and cookie! Haha! But really, thanks so much for the review and being one of my awesome lurkers! I so appreciate it=)_

_**FlamingSnowPaw:**__ I loved your Raluca story (that's such a pretty name btw) because I make friends that way on occasion as well, and I'm glad their relationship transferred to real life. I love Winnie's hair too – back to the bulk of the review haha. I hope this didn't disappoint you. It was dramatic but with shouting. I promise in about 3 chapters or so the drama will SIGNIFICANTLY dwindle away. I don't like high school drama garbage as much as the next person, but they are still young and need to grow out of that nonsense, and I hope you stick around for the ride! PS – I think you meant Fred instead of George about the dying thing lol. Thanks so much for reviewing! _

_**ChocoholicD:**__ with a little luck;)_

_**Virginia Wolfe:**__ All I'm going to say in regard to your review is I LOVE YOU. That rhyme had me in stitches lol. I love Livia more than you know, and I can't wait to make them meet. It will be lovely=) Sorry it took me an eternity to review your newest chapter. I suck! Update soon & thanks so much, doll=)_

_**:**__ This was honestly one of the sweetest reviews I've gotten for this fic. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. I've been sort of second guessing Winnie lately thanks t some negative feedback etc, but you brought me out of my uncertainty. Thanks, doll=)_

_**InsignificantBlimp: **__laughed out loud at your amazing review (as usual). Hus to you! Thanks so much, love=)_

_**HypedUpOnSugar24:**__ I love new readers, and I'm so flattered to have won your approval! Not to worry about ole Ollie though. He's going through a phase. I swear. You'll not hate me for corrupting him by the end of it all. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I hope to hear from you more=)_

_**Angel2u:**__ I have some ideas for Umbridge, you'll see! Thanks so much for the review, doll=)_

_**YouMeAtSixRocksMyWorld:**__ Seriously, you are too nice to me. Thanks so incredibly much! Ollie is being an asshat. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story because I'm enjoying writing it! Thanks again, love!_

_**WhatsGoingOn:**__ Why hello my most loyal reader. I adore you (as you already know). I'm so pleased that you're liking the Winnie/Hermione friendship. I wanted your stamp of approval on that one! Yes, Ollie will return to his non-jerk self eventually. Promise. I can't wait to read your novel! For real! I want to read this! It sounds awesome. Anyways, I adore you and how awesome you are. Thanks for the banner and your reviews!_

_**Quidditchandsonicscrewdrivers: **__Crossed Over? YES! I am using that! You will be mentioned of course for your awesomeness! Thanks so much for your kind words and clever less, doll! I love you=)_

–

_**Review.**_


	16. Chapter 15: The Final Task

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

_The Final Task_

–

_Dreams are today's answers  
to tomorrow's questions._

–

Slowly but surely, the members of Puddlemere United began to dwindle in the waiting room. After twelve hours of waiting for Oliver to regain consciousness, every player left with promises to return the following day (including Oliver's so-called best friend and roommate Jasper McQueen). Yes, every player but Mick O'Neil disappeared with solemn faces. Aggie and Liam snoozed heavily in the corner of the room upon an uncomfortable looking sofa, make-up stains from Aggie's tears, lined down her cheeks. I sat at Oliver's bedside, holding his scraped up hand in mine and staring anxiously at his eyelids, praying for them to open. Mick sat beside the door in a folding chair, resting his elbows on his knees, looking down at his clasped hands hanging between his legs. I should have been more worried, more frightened but I was consumed with thoughts of George. I'd broken him and there was no one to blame but myself. I felt like the scum on the bottom of an old boot, worthless and self-centered. I couldn't leave Oliver in such an awful state, so I sent George off in another.

"You should try and get some sleep," said Mick.

"I'm fine, and I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway," I replied, not peeking over my shoulder for fear I'd miss Oliver's eyelids shudder. "You go ahead, Mick, go on home. You must be exhausted."

"Nah," said Mick. "I had a blow to the head earlier in the season and Ollie stayed all night until I woke up, so I'm just repaying the favor."

"I'm surprised Jasper isn't here," I said sarcastically, biting on a hint of bitterness. "They are best mates now, you know."

"I know," said Mick coldly, "but I'm not surprised McQueen isn't here. It's in his nature to be self-involved."

"I had hoped you and Oliver would remain close," I replied. "I've always liked you, Mick."

"Thanks, Winnie," he smiled fleetingly. "Merlin help me if I didn't try. You remember at the pub some time ago when I told you and Oliver that he should get used to being in the public's spotlight?" I slowly turned back to meet his gaze and nodded before he continued. "Well, there are two paths a person can take when forced in that limelight. The first is the path I took. I do interviews on occasion, but I keep my private life – private. I realize that what I do is a job that many people happen to enjoy. I am good at what I do, but I am no better than a healer or a professor or anyone. I strive to remain humble. Path two was chosen by Jasper McQueen. He is handsome and well spoken, likeable to the public and he thrives on attention. He sees what we do as a stage, a stage he performs on to a loving crowd. He believes he is superior to most, and he thinks his private life belongs to the public. Oliver – he's standing before that crossroads, and that limelight is drawing him down the wrong path like a moth to a flame. It's not too late for Ollie though, like it is for Jasper. Oliver could turn around and fly back down to earth before he is burned."

"And how would he come to his senses?" I asked. "I fear he's gone too far in the wrong direction."

"No one is beyond redemption," said Mick. "Sometimes it just takes a little nudge from someone to send them back down the right path."

"And who is that someone exactly?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "You – or I just don't know."

"I don't think I'd be the person to send Oliver back on the right path when I'm already so far off my own," I said.

"How so?"

I looked at Mick, my lips parted. My lower lip trembled slightly as I turned away for a moment, peering down at Oliver with a fretful expression. I regained my composure and looked back to Mick again. I was beyond caring who knew or who didn't know what I had done.

"If Oliver hadn't had this accident, if he had managed to meet me at Hogsmeade today then I would have broken up with him right then and there," I explained, peeking over to make sure Aggie and Liam were still sound asleep. "I'd decided not long before I left to meet him that I would end our relationship."

"Because of his... er– rapid personality change?" asked Mick.

"That and... some other circumstances," I replied.

"Like your friend – that George Weasley?"

"Yes," I replied meaningfully, "like him."

"Then you would be at Hogwarts in his arms instead of holding Oliver in yours had this unfortunate event not occurred?" said Mick, and I nodded solemnly. "That's why that young man left in such a hurry, eh?" I nodded again. "I don't know who I feel worse for: Oliver, you or your friend."

"Don't pity me," I said fiercely. "I got myself into this mess with my lies, selfishness and stupidity."

"You can't help who you love, Winnie," said Mick. "Oliver is my friend, but if you feel as if things should be over between the two of you then you're hurting three people in the process."

"What do you expect me to do," I asked, "leave him – unconscious and in such a terrible state?"

"I understand your dilemma," he replied.

"And what do you suggest I do then?"

"Wait until he is fully recovered, back on his feet and all," said Mick, "then break the news gently. Don't stay with him forever because you feel guilty only to live unhappily ever after."

A long silence suffocated us until I spoke again.

"I wish Oliver realized how lucky he was to have a friend like you," I said with a soft smile.

"A friend who encourages his friend's girlfriend to break-up with him," said Mick with a humorous inflection, taking to his feet. "Ay, I am a great friend to have. But now this friend is going to buy something to snack on, you want anything?"

"No, but thanks, Mick," I said, "for everything."

He smiled weakly to me and quietly slid out into the hall to not disturb Aggie and Liam. No more than a minute or two later, I heard a familiar voice.

"Winnie?"

I jerked my attention back to Oliver, his dry and barely audible voice catching me by surprise. He slowly began to try and open his eyes, too weak to easily clear his vision. He understandably looked confused and tired, staring up at me as if I could answer all his unasked questions.

"Ollie," I breathed a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I took a Bludger to the head," he said, "but I suspect most people feel this way after taking a Bludger to the head."

"At least you didn't get what little sense of humor you possess knocked out of you," I teased, kissing the back of his hand.

"I'm glad you're here," he smiled weakly, squeezing my hand.

"Your mum and dad are here as well as Mick," I said, "Mick ran to get something to eat and your parents are sleeping over there."

I nodded towards Aggie and Liam so Oliver's gaze could follow my line of sight.

"Where is everyone else, the team?" he asked.

"Um, Jasper left a couple hours after you arrived," I explained. "He had something or other to do, and everyone else on the team slowly began to dwindle around two in the morning, so an hour or so ago. Most everyone stayed over twelve hours. A lot of people really care about you, Ollie."

I could tell the news about Jasper had bothered Oliver though he fought to show his distaste, and I was slightly happy about it. He then made a face as if he'd just recalled a forgotten memory.

"Was George here?" asked Oliver. "It's like I remember his voice, like it was a dream."

"No," I said abruptly before attempting to make my voice sound less shaken. "It must have just been a dream."

"Curious," he said in a slight voice of disbelief.

"Yes, quite," I replied hastily, feeling rushed to change the subject. "Are you in much pain?"

"Not so much," he grinned faintly. "My head is a bit sore, understandably so. I hurt a bit less knowing you're here."

"Quit being so mushy gushy," I said, "or I'll start to vomit and then I'll be in bed beside you."

"I didn't know if you'd come," said Oliver, and I choked silently, "part of me was certain you wouldn't."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because I've been dreadful to you," he replied certainly. "I've blamed you, neglected you–"

"Oliver, shut up," I interrupted, feeling a surge of guilt. "We've both made mistakes, and I am just as if not more guilty than you for turning our relationship poisonous."

"Let's start fresh," said Oliver, "we can forget everything that's gone wrong lately, pretend like it never happened."

"I can't do that," I said. "We've been together nearly two years, Oliver, and we cannot simply erase the past."

"What do you propose we do then?" he asked in a curt tone. "You cannot deny that our relationship has turned sour. We've been no good to one another for a while now."

"Concentrate on getting well, Oliver," I interrupted firmly. "You're injured and you must concentrate on your recovery. This can wait, your parents will want me to wake them and share the news of your wake."

I stood to pull away but Oliver gripped my hand tighter and forced me to my seat beside him again.

"No," he urged, "this is important."

"_This _is foolish, and I will not speak of it now," I replied.. "Save your breath, you are still weak."

"Winnie–"

"Oliver, hush–" I urged.

"I promise that I'll be better," he said as clear as crystal.

"Yes, I want you to get better," I replied. "The healers told us that you'll be out the remainder of the season, but since the team underachieved this year, you'll only be missing two matches as the team has no mathematical shot at the play-offs. Mick said you'll still be a contender for Rookie of the Year though, since you've overachieved on your own and–"

"No, none of that matters," he said, shaking his head as much as he could in his white bandages. "I mean, I want to be better to you."

I felt a sudden pang of guilt in my chest so much that inhaled a sharp breath that I struggled to release. My palm involuntarily became plastered against my abdomen. I tried to regain my composure somewhat, but my efforts were only half successful as I swallowed hard to conceal my discomfort.

"You've been nothing but good to me, Oliver," I insisted for good measure, "so stop this nonsense."

"You're here," he said a bit deliriously. "You came, you stayed with me even though we were fighting. You came after everything–"

"Oliver, stop this," I said. "I've done terrible things, said things, felt things I shouldn't feel–"

"What–?" he started.

"Oliver darling!" Aggie exclaimed, prying herself from her husband's arms in half a sleep coma to reach her son. She instantly took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead. Liam slowly woke from his deep sleep and hurried to his son's bedside beside his wife. I looked on, debating to whether I was pleased or disappointed that Oliver's parents had interrupted our conversation.

"Calm down, mum, I'm alright," he smirked as she continuously kissed his cheeks, "no worries."

I smiled weakly from behind them, crossing my arms over my chest, hugging myself. I left not long after Oliver woke.

–

He was exhausted and needed his rest, and our presence wasn't needed as long as he experienced bouts in and out of consciousness. I promised to return the following evening after catching a few hours of sleep and finished some homework. I crept out of McGonagall's hearth just as the clock struck four, trying my hardest to avoid making any sound that could wake her. I was in no hurry to reach Gryffindor Tower or my dorm room. I knew it would be lonely, dismal and lifeless though I shared the room with two other roommates. Life was just not the same without George sharing it with me. I looked a wreck when I entered the common room, my hair disheveled and my once handsome outfit now wrinkled and smelling of cleaning supplies and sweat. I rubbed my eyes, sighing heavily. My breath became caught in my throat when I spotted a lump on the ancient Gryffindor sofa. It was George, sound asleep with his notebook of inventions falling open onto the floor. His mouth was ajar, a quiet snore not half as loud as Fred's was singing a quiet lullaby. I cautiously strode to his side, gently lifting his tattered notebook from his limp hands. George jolted awake at my touch, startling me slightly.

"Christ, Freddie, you scared the bogies out of me," he gasped, pushing himself up into a sitting position in the couch.

I smiled feebly, embarrassed for several reasons as I carefully beside him. There was an awkward tension between us, a thick and relentless agony that suffocated my very being. I had trouble looking at him, as he did me. He sat with his back against the arm of the sofa and his legs pulled up casually before his chest, with me facing the fireplace ahead of the sofa. I clutched his notebook, creating unintentional indentions upon the skin of my fingers.

"What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" I asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

"Making sure you got back alright, _McGonagall_," he teased, looking down into his lap.

"After our argument I figured you wouldn't care if I ever came back," I replied with a small, sad grin.

"As did I," he said, "but I realized how stupid and inaccurate that would be."

"Your mood has certainly changed in half a day," I said.

"Well, I spent my time after I left St. Mungos doing something rather unconventional," said George, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "I did some serious thinking."

"Did you now?" I asked, amused. "That certainly is unconventional."

"Yes, and I'd prefer to never do it again. It was rather awful, and I still am in a terrible amount of pain from the whole ordeal," he said.

"Sounds dreadful," I smirked.

"It was until I had one of those headaches with pictures," he explained.

"A thought?"

"Precisely," he replied, pointing his index finger at me like a gun, "several actually."

"Do tell," I said, gauging his demeanor and hoping his playfulness was not a facade. It was quite the contrast to our heated row several hours before.

"I think that I may have overreacted," he said. "I mean, you are my best friend, and I love you."

"Likewise," I replied, "and I shouldn't have gotten so wrapped up in the moment and disregarded everything that had just happened between us. It was just that... I mean, even if Oliver and I never dated and were just friends... I still could never leave him or any friend for that matter in such a state."

"I just don't want to lose you," he said in a much more serious tone, "and I can see now that in order for me to keep you in my life, keep you as my friend, then I suppose I have no choice."

"What do you mean?"

"I will wait," he replied, "for you."

I half-jokingly pushed a few shaggy strands of red hair from his eyes to check for Fred's scar and found none before tilting his head to the side with little force to look for the small mole upon the back of George's neck. It was there indeed.

"I'm not Fred," he said, rolling his eyes and brushing my hands off his face. "Can't you tell by my voice alone for proof?"

"Fred could always make himself sound more feminine to imitate your voice," I replied.

"Wait… what?" said George, doing a double take. "Are you saying I sound like a girl?"

"Not necessarily," I smirked, knowing I was getting to him. "Fred just has a deeper voice, a manlier – _sexier_ voice."

"Bullocks," he pouted. "I have a very sexy voice."

"Yes, for a prepubescent girl, you have a _very_ sexy voice," I teased.

"Shut it and return to our previous subject," said George with a twang of self-consciousness in his voice.

"Alright, then my reply to your previous statement would be... uh, what?" I said in disbelief. "Then why did we just make a scene at St. Mungos?"

"Well, I still must emphasize that I will not wait forever," he insisted. "I will wait until the end of summer. That is more than enough time for Wood to recover, but if you go and change your mind... if you decide that Oliver is the path you choose then I won't pursue you again. I will not become some little lost puppy, trailing after you with my tail between my legs. I'm not going to be _that_ bloke, not anymore."

"George, I can't expect you to wait for me even until the end of summer," I said, feeling an uncomfortable flip in my stomach. "I don't want to hurt you–"

"You won't," he replied astutely. "I know you won't."

"George, I just... I feel terrible," I began. "I've become this pathetic little whiny girl, the perfect example of everything I hate. I've gone from this fun-loving, independent person to someone who bases my own happiness on someone else. It's immature and it is ignorant. I am finished acting like that. It isn't me, it's never been who I really am. I miss my shenanigans with you and Fred before everything has happened this year. I miss the old Winnie, Fred and George. I miss being normal – free of visions and of Sight in general. I miss the seven of us all together and getting along: you, me, Fred, Lee, Angelina, Katie and even Alicia. I miss the ways things were, everything. I don't mean to be self-loathing, seeking sympathy, but I cannot pretend to deny that I brought so very much of this onto myself and even more so onto all of you. For that, George, I am sorry. I'm sorry for the unnecessary drama I've carried along with me, for the lies and betrayal, for the stupidity, and I'm sorry for telling you I'm sorry so often, for having so many reasons to apologize."

"It's alright," he said. "I did and said a lot of things I regret as well. I don't like fighting with you, arguing and resenting you. I want you to be happy even if it isn't with me, and I just know that you aren't right now with Oliver. We will just enjoy our summer as friends, I will not make a pass at you, not pursue you whilst you are still with Oliver or even stick my nose up if he comes around. I will be civil, and I will not condemn you for still being with him... even if it is forever. We are friends first and foremost, that does not negate my earlier confession of my affections for you from yesterday, but I have concluded that I would rather have you in my life as just a friend than not at all."

"And I suppose Fred had nothing to do with such an epiphany?" I smirked.

"He may have encouraged the idea," he grinned sheepishly.

"I love you, George," I smiled.

"I love you too, Freddie," he grinned.

And though the words were platonic in such an instance, they were no less meaningful.

–

"Oh," escaped my lips as a shot up from my slumber a week after my dramatic night at St. Mungos. I inhaled a deep breath of air and looked down at my open palm upon my stomach. I was almost nervous for a moment, nervous that when I pulled my hand away that there would be blood upon my palm. It felt as if there would be, as if I'd been stabbed. It was strange, a strange feeling I mean. It was as if I'd just seen something terrible, something completely horrific… but I hadn't. I hadn't had a nightmare or, a vision or anything of the sort. It was as if I had an image on the tip of my tongue instead of a word. It was indescribable, really.

"You alright, Win?" Angelina yawned, rolling over onto her side.

"Yeah, fine," I replied, pulling my hand away and examining it curiously. I glanced over and saw Hermione's bed was empty as I cleared my throat to settle my nerves to no avail. "Where is 'mione?"

"It's an hour before we usually wake up," said Angelina, lazily peeking over at the clock before closing her eyes again, "so she's been up for two hours already."

"Right," I replied. "Well, I might as well go stuff my face early this morning."

"Have fun with that," she muttered, rolling back over into dreamland.

I threw on my clothes for the day, thinking that my unnerving feeling would dissipate. It did not. All I could do was ignore it and hope it would go away soon enough. I felt as if I was a day before I was about to get the flu or something. My stomach felt upset, and my skin was clammy and moist with cold sweat. I was lost in my own thoughts on my way to the Great Hall. Perhaps it was just nerves. The final task was just a few days away after all. I kept trying to convince myself that it was nothing, but I knew it was something, a big something.

"Winnie?" a voice called from behind me.

"Huh?" I said indifferently, turning about to see Cedric jogging towards me. He smiled kindly, tossing his head tot he side to clear his eyes of his shaggy brown hair.

"I've been calling your name for ages," he smirked, "everything alright?"

"What?" I breathed, looking him up and down. "Yeah, fine – grand – perfect. How are you?"

"Well, that's why I was looking for you," he grinned, puffing out his chest. "You're looking at the recipient of an E on his Divination N.E.W.T."

"Oh, Cedric, really?" I smiled, shoving my fears to the back burner for a moment.

"Yes, mam," he laughed, glowing with pride. "Professor Trelawney just told me. I couldn't have done it without you, Freddie, you and Cassandra really saved me!"

"You got that grade all on your own," I beamed, "Congrats, Ced, really."

He engulfed me in a hug, and I laughed at first, ruffling his hair as he lifted me into the air. Then I felt as if a bright green light had shot through me, and I fell back from Cedric's arms, stumbling for a moment. I looked down at my own hand as if I had exhumed this sort of green lightening bolt from my fingertips. Cedric eyes me curiously. I held my hand behind my back, smiling in an embarrassed sort of way.

"What?" Cedric breathed. "Kill the spare what?"

"What?" I replied, just as confused.

"You said, 'Kill the spare,'" he said, walking towards me to feel my sweaty forehead. "Why did you say that?"

"I didn't," I chuckled uncomfortably, turning my head to rip his hand from my face. "Silly Badger, you must be imagining things."

"No," he insisted. "You said it, and then you fell backwards."

"I hope telling stories is a part of the final task," I joked. "You'd win for sure, but I have to get going, Ced. I'm starving, out late visiting Oliver again, 'n all that, so I need something to fill my stomach with. Good work on the N.E.W.T."

I heaved a heavy breath, pivoting on my heal and rushing away just leaving Cedric standing in stunned silence behind me. What had just happened? I spoke, and I didn't remember it. Kill what spare? What did that mean, and what was with the flash of green light? Something strange was going on, and I had the strong urge to go back to bed to attempt to wake up on the other side. However, I entered the bare-looking Great Hall and took a seat beside Lee, sitting by himself as he finished out Potions homework.

"Hey Freddie," he smiled briefly, giving me a weird glance. "You look a sight."

"Good morning to you too," I yawned. "I didn't sleep much, pass the toast."

Lee slid the toast and jam down towards me, but I found it difficult to swallow the dry toast.

"Did you go to St. Mungos then last night?" asked Lee.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Well, you said you didn't get much sleep," he said suspiciously.

"Oh, right," I replied, biting into my toast again. "I _did_ say that."

"So how is 'ole Ollie doing?" he inquired, dotting the end of his sentence before meeting my gaze again.

"Recovering," I smiled quietly, "slowly but surely. The Healers expect him to be released in a week or so. He should be back to his old Quidditch-obsessed self in a couple months with any luck."

"Good to hear," said Lee, nodding.

"Potions is canceled?" said Fred with an upward inflection, sitting down beside Lee.

"What, no?" Lee replied.

"Oh, that's the only good thing I want to hear," said Fred, winking at me while George stretched his long, gangly leg over the bench to sit beside me. "Well, that and Winnie saying she is going to go take a shower.' You look like shit, Freddie, worse than your usual mess. What's wrong?"

"Thank you, you're too kind," I replied, bowing my head sarcastically. "I'm alright, just feeling a bit under the weather. I suspect one of you filled my box of chocolate with Fever Fudge again."

Fred and George looked at one another, pointing with suspicious expressions, and simultaneously mouthed, "You?"

I snorted a laugh and poured myself a goblet of orange juice.

–

"Page 456," said Snape, waving his hand above our text to the desired page. Snape had been acting weird-er today than usual. He appeared on edge, jumpy and paranoid. He wasn't his usual boring, slow moving, collected self. It was odd, really. I kept wiping away pools of cold sweat that kept forming upon my forehead and upper lip. The more time passed, the worse I began to feel. The Final Task was only a couple days away, and I blamed my ill at ease upon my nerves for Cedric and for Harry. Snape kept glancing at me every couple words as if he was expecting me to do something wrong. He would probably have been correct about my behavior if I had been feeling better.

"I think Snape is in love you you," George whispered in jest, earning a poignant eye roll from me.

I placed my open palm on my forehead to prop my head up, looking down at my book and pretending to pay attention to the passage Snape was reading. Suddenly, several drops of thick red liquid fell onto my pages. I gasped involuntarily and covered my nose with my fingers. I pulled my hand away to discover my nose was indeed the source of the blood upon my book.

"Bollocks," I muttered, covering my nose back up with my hand and tilting my head back.

"Is there a problem, McKinnon?" asked Snape as if he was relieved to have caught me doing anything but sitting perfectly still.

"I have a bloody nose, sir," I replied in a nasally tone, peeking over at him from my bent neck. He glanced down at my ruined pages before jerking his attention back onto me.

"Detention," he said suddenly.

"Pardon?" I replied, leaning forward to an erect position again, staring at him with a baffled expression.

"You have soiled your textbook, displaying a sense of disrespect for your class belongings," he explained.

"I didn't mean to," I replied. "I can't help a bloody nose. It just happened."

"Saturday afternoon," he retorted with little regard for my explanation, "don't be late."

"That's the day of the final task," George objected.

"I am well aware, Mr. Weasley," said Snape while I sat in utter shock, returning to the lesson.

"I've have never been punished for being innocent before," I muttered grimly, accepting a tissue from George.

–

"I can't believe you have to miss the Final Task," said Fred, fiddling with some sort of invention his hands as we walked down the long corridor. The twins were going to drop me off near the dungeons before heading down to the field. I still had my unnerving feeling, but I was getting better at ignoring it.

"Maybe you should have gone to McGonagall," Lee suggested, bringing up the rear. "I reckon she wouldn't have stood for it."

"Yes, and I'm sure Snape would treat me much better after finding out I undermined him," I smirked, tightening my belt of my ragged jeans. I'd gotten rather thin since I began having visions. It was hard for me to keep down breakfast after seeing some horrific sights during my slumber. I'd gone down nearly two sizes, and I was tiny to begin with. "I'm just going to tough it out, and make you lot give me all the details afterwords–"

"After Harry wins," said Ron, chiming in as he, Hermione and Harry appeared around the corner near the Great Hall.

"Of course," I grinned, moving between Ron and Harry to ruffle both of their heads of hair simultaneously. Ron affectionately nudged me off him which inclined me to leap onto his back. He stopped for a moment and begrudgingly adjusted me higher onto his back for a ride. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked down at Harry. "How you feeling, Potter?"

"No comment," he said, his face rather pale.

"Well, don't be," I smiled as Ron lifted me even higher on his back.. "You'll be magnificent."

"Too bad you won't see it yourself," said Ron, looking up to acknowledge me.

"Yeah, well–"

"Mum - Bill!" said Ron suddenly, looking stunned, as we approached the Gryffindor table. "What're you doing here?"

I hopped down off Ron's back and joined the others in the semicircle around Bill and Molly.

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Molly brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. What's this about you missing the Final Task, Winnie dear?"

"Oh… right," I began.

"She volunteered to help Professor Snape," said George, stepping in. "He's been feeling under the weather lately, and Freddie offered to help him organize some ingredients. Right, Win?"

I looked up at George with a suspicious Molly looking on at us.

"Right..."

"Well, that certainly is thoughtful," said Molly, still giving me an odd glance.

"Sometimes people surprise you," I shrugged, smiling softly up at George to thank him.

Ginny came to join us too, and Harry appeared to be having such a good time that it looked like he had forgotten to worry about the final task. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge joined the staff table. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and I thought her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Everyone got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding Harry; the Weasleys and Hermione all of us wished him good luck, and while everyone headed off out of the Great Hall and towards the outside grounds – I took off for the dungeons. I glanced back for a quick second before departing downstairs. I spotted Cedric, talking quickly with some mates on his way outside. He paused when he saw me, smiling softly and nodding his head as if to thank me, an appreciative grin. I returned the same as a sudden sharp pain came over me like a wave again. Maybe this bad feeling was more than just a feeling after all.

–

"You're late, McKinnon," said Snape with only a half glance at me as I entered his chilly classroom. It was made obvious that I was undeserving of his full attention.

"My apologies, sir," I began, walking forward and placing my wand on the counter because I knew whatever he wanted me to would be something that did not involve the assistance of magic. Snape snatched it up and put it in his black cloak pocket. "I was surprised by my family showing up to watch the final task."

Snape paused at my statement, looking up at me with a confused expression that I knew had to be put on.

"I mean the Weasleys," I sighed.

"Ah," he grunted, returning to his papers as if he hadn't already known what I meant by "family."

"Yes," I said in a rude tone, attempting to curl his greasy hair with my subliminal disrespect.

I looked around the dark room, searching for some chore that was set aside for me to do. I saw nothing. I looked back up at Snape with a blank expression, dreading the probability that he had something horrible in store for my detention. However, when I met his cold, dark gaze there was almost a hint of fear in his eyes. I swallowed hard glanced away. I cleared my throat loudly as if to start again from our curt greeting.

"Professor, no disrespect intended," I began (which meant _only_ disrespect was intended), "but I think you do owe me an explanation. I mean, I have been punished many times for my bad behavior over the years, and though I will usually deny my guilt… I typically at least attain an understanding to why I am in detention. I have never felt so utterly innocent before in my life. Please, sir–"

"This is not a punishment," he said swiftly, "but I do require for your assistance."

I cringed.

"Sir, I am definitely not hot for teacher if that is what you are trying to imply," I said, biting my lower lip. "I know you've seen me practically naked, but that does not mean–"

"For Merlin's sake, McKinnon," he frowned, rolling his eyes. "That is most certainly not what I meant."

"Then what could I possibly help you with?" I asked. "Couldn't it wait until after the final task? I really want to see Harry–"

"No, I prefer that we be alone in the castle," he said, and I knew then that whatever this was that it was serious.

"Alright, what is it?"

"You are able to see into the future by touching people and objects, correct?" he inquired.

"Yes, that is how it works," I nodded, "but I am far from experienced. My powers are still being tamed, sometimes my visions come in bursts without my control. If I really concentrate then I can see as far as a year ahead, but it's usually blurry and sporadic with a lot of blind spots. I am much better at reading minds than seeing futures. Think of a number between one and a billion, and I bet you–"

"I need you to touch this," he interrupted.

Snape lifted his sleeve with one abrupt motion, revealing something I had only joked about existing on his skin. It was the Dark Mark, the mark of a Death Eater. I gasped and backed up, jolting for the door. However, Snape moved to quickly and swiftly locked the exit with one wave of his wand. I pulled helplessly to turn the handle to no avail and as I reached for my wand, Snape cast a spell to shoot it from my grasp and across the room. I slammed my back against the door, fearing the worst.

"Calm down," he hissed. "I have no intention of harming you."

"You–" I breathed, pointing at his extended forearm. "You have the… the–"

"Dark Mark," he sighed, annoyed. "We have obviously established that by now."

"Why do you have that?"

"Because I used to be a Death Eater," he replied dryly.

"But you teach here and... Dumbledore wouldn't hire a murderer," I said. "He must not know."

"Professor Dumbledore is more than aware of my _unique_ circumstance," he replied. "Do you honestly believe _Albus Dumbledore_ would be so oblivious to hire a Death Eater with no prior knowledge?"

"No, but—" I began.

"I have proven trustworthy to your Headmaster, and I clearly do not practice such illicit activities any longer," said Snape.

"Then why do you need me to help you?" I asked nervously. "Does Dumbledore know—"

"I need your help to hopefully prevent something awful from happening," he replied, "and I have to trust that you will keep our conversation private. And if you think for a second that the Weasleys do not count then know that anyone you inform of this meeting between us will be unequivocally placed in great danger. I doubt you wish to be responsible for any harm coming to them."

"Is that a threat?" I sneered.

"No," he said with no hate or intimidation in his eyes, "it is simply the truth."

"What is it that you fear is happening?" I asked. "What am I looking for?"

"I'm not sure," he said honestly, "which is why I need you."

"If you don't know then why are you so concerned?" I asked.

"A feeling and not just my mark," he said firmly, and I instantly could understand. "It's this unyielding terror that consumes me, like I know something is going to happen – something terrible."

"I can relate," I replied.

"I imagine you can," said Snape dryly, "so you will assist me then?"

I was still unsure about helping Snape. Joking about him being a Death Eater was quite different from him actually being one. However, I knew that there was no way that Dumbledore would allow him to teach students right under his nose if Snape was dangerous... really dangerous at least. I pushed up my sleeves and cracked my knuckles, earning an eye roll from Snape. He extended his forearm and I uneasily placed my fingertips to his skin as if I was preparing to touch hot stones. Everything went from calm to chaotic. As soon as my skin touches his it was as if I was being sucked through a tunnel. I inhaled a deep and uncomfortable breath, taking an abrupt and involuntary step backwards until I fell back onto my behind, taking several books that were resting on a couple desks with me. I went to push myself back onto my feet as if I was embarrassed to have lost my footing. I couldn't gather my balance, however. I was seemingly trapped on my hands and knees. My hair hung loose in my eyes, all I could do was stare down at the cold stone before my face whilst trying to keep myself propped up on my hands and knees. My head was spinning as I fought the urge to vomit.

"Winnie?" I heard Snape say in a more concerned voice than I had ever heard uttered from his lips. It sounded so far away though, so distant. I had never heard him use my first name before... well, besides Winifred. That didn't count.

I parted my lips to respond but it was then when I saw it – blood. It was dripping slowly from my mouth and onto the floor before my eyes. I gasped, coughing more red liquid from my throat. I tasted metal, sour and poignant. My light elbow gave out first, causing me to abruptly pummel onto my side upon the stone ground. My eyelids fluttered as Snape's panicked expression went blurry before my eyes.

_They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard, Cedric and Harry; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. I could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside. It was like I was there with them, but impossibly far away. Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry. Who had won, what had happened, and where were they?_

"_Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked Harry, obviously oblivious to my presence._

"_Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?" _

"_I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?" _

"_Yeah," said Harry, visibly glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him. _

_They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him, unable to see my motionless figure behind them. I existed without really existing. I wasn't seeing through the eyes of anyone, I was just there. I had the strange feeling that I was being watched, and I reckoned that if I felt it then Harry and Cedric must be feeling the same thing. However, I knew that in their case it must be true. _

"_Someone's coming," said Cedric suddenly. _

_Squinting tensely through the darkness, I watched along with the boys, a figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward us between the graves. I couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, I could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was undeniably short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And – several paces nearer, the gap between us closing all the time – I saw that the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby… or was it merely a bundle of robes? I couldn't tell just yet._

_I noticed Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric, and Cedric shot him a quizzical look back. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure and as did I. It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. _

_TOM RIDDLE _

_I knew the stories, I knew the gruesome history. I knew the demon who once deemed such a title with a "Jr." at the end. That must be the grave of the father of Lord Voldemort._

_From far away, above my head, I heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare." _

_A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: _

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

_A blast of green light blazed through my eyelids, and I heard something heavy fall to the ground beside me. Cedric was lying spread-eagle on the ground beside him. He was dead. I released a bloodcurdling scream and neither Harry nor the hooded figure heard my cry. For a second that contained an eternity, I stared onto Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. I knelt down beside Cedric as he just stared without seeing, trying to shake him. However, it was as if I was a ghost. My hands fell straight through his motionless body as if I was made of smoke._

_The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was now dragging Harry toward the marble headstone before I could comprehend what I had just seen. Everything began to spin; my vision became black and splotchy. __But then, as if another eternity had passed, through the mist in front of me, I saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeleton thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron. _

"_Robe me, Wormtail," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and the hooded figure now named "Wormtail," sobbing and moaning, cradling his arm that appeared abruptly mutilated, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one handed over his master's head. _

_The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry… and the relentlessly brave Harry stared back into the face that I knew must have haunted his nightmares for years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake with slits for nostrils… _

_Lord Voldemort had risen again. _

"NO!" I bellowed, clambering to attempt to grab onto Harry, to encourage him to run, to escape. "NO – HARRY – NO!"

"MCKINNON!" Snape's distant droll inquired in the closest tone to frantic that I had ever heard uttered by such a somber creature. "Miss McKinnon, are you quite alright?"

My eyes shot open as I rolled over, coughing as if I had been holding my breath for an eternity. More blood fell from my lips as I coughed harder to breathe again. I was too stunned, too weak to climb to my feet just yet. My head was spinning, my body numb as I struggled to look up into Snape's icy black eyes. Finally, I was able to speak.

"He's back," I gasped, looking up at Snape as he leaned down over me. I saw my reflection in his dark irises, I looked possessed, and that's the only proper way I can find to describe my expression. My eyes were wider than ever before, my skin pale, sweating profusely, and my entire body shook with great fury with blood coating my lips. "He's come back."

"Who is back?" asked Snape, narrowing his eyes.

"_You-Know-Who_," I breathed.

"No, I am certain I do not know who," he said, annoyed.

"No, you great stupid git, I mean YOU-KNOW-WHO!" I shouted, pushing myself up off the desk and staring him down, nose-to-nose. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, V-O-L-D-E-M-O-R-T! He's returned! Lord Voldemort has come back!"

Snape was suddenly flustered, so flustered in fact that he forgot to reprimand me for referring to him in such a disrespectful manner. He started breathing heavily; only monosyllabic grunts were being released from his thin lipped expression. He gazed at me with this almost amazed stare for several seconds, seemingly surprised I would be so bold to declare such a thing. Then he released his grip from the desk and stepped back, running his fingers through his exceedingly greasy long hair. He paced back and forth a time or two before finally speaking in complete sentences again.

"What did you see?" he asked, and I was surprised he didn't accuse me of being an idiot or something first.

"The Triwizard Cup, it's a portkey!" I pleaded desperately. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in this graveyard with someone named er– Wormtail... who helped You-Know-Who back! Harry was there and Cedric Diggory too, and Wormtail kills Cedric! We have to do something!"

Snape stood perfectly still, but he pulled back his sleeve and intensely looked down at his own ruddy Dark Mark. It almost seemed to move as I tried to get a better look at it. Then as swiftly as he had pulled back his sleeve, he pulled the long robe back over it. He looked out the opposing window that faced the maze with a look of deep thought, like he was plotting a move on a chess board.

"There isn't much time!" I shouted.

He turned to me as if he'd forgotten I was there, looking at me with a curious expression for an uncomfortable amount of time. He then darted towards the door that led into the dungeons, but froze and gripped the doorway before turning back to me but his eyes remained glued to the floor beside my feet.

"You have the power to read minds, yes?" he asked and I blinked my agreement. "Does your gift surpass the efficiency of the art of Occlumency?"

"Yes, I suppose, but what does that have–"

"Stay put," he instructed indifferently. "Your abilities may prove detrimental within the hour."

"Wait, you can't expect me to just–"

Snape didn't even allow me to finish my sentence. He slithered outside without another word and slammed the door behind him, and I heard the lock _CLICK_. I panicked, struggling to get up to try to open the door with my bare hands and a strong effort. I yanked on the handle and kicked at the door to no avail. It was locked magically, and Snape had wisely left me without a wand so that I wouldn't sneak the use of magic in while I was cleaning cauldrons. I began banging on the door and screaming for help, for someone to let me out. I stopped after a few minutes after realizing that anyone who could help me would be down at the task already. That thought was concluded when I heard the echo of some sort of explosion that was undoubtedly the signal for the task to begin.

"NO!" I bellowed out of complete frustration.

I pushed over a dozen or so cauldrons to reach the only window that illuminated the dim dungeon. It was only about a foot wide and tall, but because it was located atop a hill, I could make out a brief image of the cheering crowd and champions beginning to run inside the maze. I gripped the metal bars that acted as a window pane and shook them as if they would budge, though even if I could somehow free the bars, there would be no feasible way for me to budge myself through. I was trapped. I turned around and planted my back harshly against the stone wall below the small window, sliding down to the floor in defeat. I pounded my fists against the stone ground with rage and released a frustrated groan. How could Snape expect me to trust that he'd handle the situation, prevent You-Know-Who's return and Cedric's death. He had apparently been a Death Eater, and I honestly couldn't tell where his allegiances lied now.

No one came to release me, no one came to my rescue. I was stuck in that cold dungeon room for an eternity. I fell onto my hands and knees when I heard the frantic screams from the pitch and made out several specific screams for Cedric. That was at the hour mark, and I still heard nothing of Snape. I wondered if he had run off to meet Voldemort and left me in the dungeons to rot away in solitude. I rested my forehead upon the chilly stone floor, my knees bent and my hands locked together in a tight grip that made my arms form a triangle around my head. I'd never felt so helpless, so useless. I didn't move from that position for an eternity more, remaining perfectly still on the floor... _alone._

–

_I made another trailer for this fic because I was such a sucky updater, and I wanted to make it up to you! Just search "__**TopoftheGlist**__" on Youtube for my channel and it'll be under "__**Double Crossed || fanfic trailer**__." Enjoy!_

–

_**A/N: **__I also swear to you all that I am done with the shitty drama between the love triangle. It will be sort of angsty for a couple chapters, but then I am going back to the trio and never turning back. I know I got away from what I started with between the three of them, and I feel awful about it. Please excuse typos for now._

_**PS:**__ Who loved HP7 Part II (I know it was ages ago)? I was brokenhearted than excited because I knew my skeleton would rot in the theatre forever once it was all over. Also, I was a complete sobbing embarrassment (even though he death wasn't given the justice it deserved) at the premiere when Fred died. I mean, I legitimately experienced a piece of myself, a piece of my childhood die along with him. I didn't cry when Dumbledore died, I did with Sirius, and I lost it with Fred. He and George have become pieces of me, and they always will be my childhood._

_**PSS:**__ I promised to post this before the premiere of the final movie, and I'm sorry I didn't my promise (far from it). I started back for my Master's Degree, got a full time job and moved so it's been crazy. I do swear on fish fingers and custard that I will not be so long to update again. I know because I already finished the prologue for Part III – Double Crossed. You can thank __WhatsGoingOn__ (Monica) for pestering me to update. I adore you girl! Thanks so much for inspiring me. I know that I promised this would be the last chapter, but I realized it would have ended up being like 20 plus thousand words, and I didn't want another chapter that long to end on. The next one should be like 10 to 12 which is my average. I promise shout outs will return next chapter as well as after Part III is posted. Keep an eye out because it may be as early as this weekend;)_

_**PSSS:**__ I was thinking that I would have Winnie have her first prophecy during Part II, but I think that would be too much and unnecessary right now. I may wait until the fourth installment to toss that in because it really won't affect anything until the fifth installment. But, we'll see because everything going on in my head changes all the time ha ha._

_**SPOILER:**__ Remember how Graham Montague was shoved into that vanishing cabinet by Fred and George during their 7__th__ year? There must have been a reason, right?_

_**Random:**__ So I was thinking... I've noticed several of my FF friends have been converting their stories onto MP3s for their readers to listen to if they're busy or on the go. I know this story is nothing big or anything but if anyone is interested please let me know. I recorded myself reading the first chapter in both American and British accents. I lived in England for awhile, so I do have a decent fake accent from what I'm told, but I don't know if I'm comfortable enough for you guys to hear it. Therefore if anyone reads this story who is from the UK wants to at least voice a character or two then I would be completely open to the idea. Your thoughts?_

_**Coming Soon:**__ Bill and the twins to the rescue, in comes Sirius Black, our story concludes, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**Review.**_


	17. Chapter 16: The Phoenix Feathers

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_The Phoenix Feathers_

–

_Birds of a feather flock together._

–

The sun had set when I finally heard the door unlatch. It was Bill and the twins. Bill entered first, lifting my limp body to my feet and propping me up so he could help keep my weak frame erect. He wrapped one arm around my waist and forcefully tilted my chin towards him to examine my face. I could tell through my squinted eyes that he was horrified by the dried blood sported from my lips to my collar bone. Fred and George looked stunned and speechless which I had never seen before. I knew by the looks on their faces that much had happened since my vision, most of which I knew I had already seen.

"Cedric," I said quietly, knowing the answer to what I was about to ask, "is he–?"

Bill nodded solemnly and all I could manage to do was swallow hard and nod with a stiff upper lip. What was the point of having the gift of Sight if I could do no good with it? I was nothing but a waste of ability. With all the strength I possessed left in body, I gently pushed myself away from Bill's hold. I unemotionally brushed the dirt and grime from my clothing, licked my lips and rubbed what I hoped to be most of the blood from my chin, and pushed the untamed strands of my hair from my eyes. Stiffening my posture, I looked up at Bill with a blank expression.

"What's happening?" I asked in a robotic voice.

"Are you alright?" asked Bill, ignoring my prior inquisition. "Can you walk?"

"I'll be fine," I replied, "I'm just recovering from an episode, which should explain all the blood."

"Not in the slightest," he said curtly as if he was angry at me for downplaying my... whatever it was, "but we'll fill you in on the way to the hospital wing."

"I told you I'm fine," I snapped in an unintentionally cold manner, "Where is Harry, how is he?"

"He'll survive," said Bill, "but that is where he is now, and that is where we are taking you."

"You're lying, Bill Weasley," I snapped. "I've known your tell since I was little. You blink, so either take me to the others or get out, and I'll find them myself."

Bill stared at me for a long second as if he was realizing how old I had gotten or where the years had disappeared to. Either way he sighed begrudgingly and nodded to the door.

"'S go, fill me on the way," I muttered, taking a determined step forward. My legs gave out, however, and I began to topple to the dungeon earth again. Fred caught me, pulling me into his arms. I looked up at his terrified face and forced an apologetic smirk as if everything was terrible it couldn't be real, so I might as well make light of it. "I just need a little practice, I suppose."

"Yeah, right," said Fred, forcing my arm around his neck whilst his other arm cradled my waist. "Let's give it another go."

My legs felt like jelly, but Fred attempted to make it seem as if I was doing most of my own walking. In reality, he was carrying me like a rag doll while I struggled to regain my strength. Bill walked ahead of the three of us, quick and confident. George kept sneaking glances of me from the corner of his eye. I could tell he was terrified, we all were. I sent him a reassuring smile that lasted no more than a second, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

–

When Bill pushed open the door I saw Molly, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey who was fretting over the lack of people to mend. They appeared to be demanding to know where I was as well as what had happened to Harry. All of them whipped around as Bill, the twins and I entered behind them. Molly let out a kind of muffled scream and darted towards me, engulfing me in a bone crushing hug.

"What's happened to you?" she breathed, pushing hair from my eyes and wiping blood splatters from my cheeks with her concoction of saliva and sweat.

"I'm fine," I replied curtly, shaking off Madam Pomfrey who looked upset to be denied access to healing my wounds. "I just had a small incident. Where is Harry?"

"On his way," said Bill.

"Sweetheart, sit down," Molly pleaded, but I refused.

"I'm fine, I told you," I insisted. "Where is Harry? Where is Snape?"

"Snape?" the others said in unison just before Harry, Dumbledore, and a bear-like black dog entered behind and regained the attention from the group. I stood alone now and that was how I wanted it.

"Harry! Oh Harry!"

The large black dog paused for a moment when it saw me. It looked surprised, if dogs could even look surprised that is. It blinked several times and sniffed the air before turning away again.

"Molly," said Dumbledore, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, the twins, me and Bill too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Molly nodded. She was very white. She rounded on the rest of us as though we were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Headmaster," said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog, "may I ask what -?"

"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while," said Dumbledore simply. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry – I will wait while you get into bed."

Harry looked immensely relieved, and I couldn't blame him. Just as Dumbledore went to speak again, the doors from behind were gently pushed open to reveal a pair of wizards carrying a stretcher with a body covered in a white sheet upon it. I knew exactly who was under the sheet. I spotted Cedric's father being consoled in the hall way by Professor Sprout before leading him in a fit of tears down towards Professor Dumbledore's office. No one moved or spoke until the two wizards had placed Cedric's body on an empty bed a few beds down from Harry. It was twisted really, but no one objected, no one could bring themselves to speak for several moments. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Cedric's frame. I was mesmerized. I had done this. This was my fault. I should have known, I should have seen it coming. I felt George wrap his hand around mine and give it a gentle squeeze. Finally, Dumbledore spoke again after clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school."

Harry nodded as Madam Pomfrey forced a small glass of potion down his throat. Harry's battered body gave into the power of the potion and instantly fell into a deep sleep. The determined mediwitch covered Harry in a blanket and carefully removed his glasses to place on the table beside him. He didn't look peaceful in his unconscious state, he looked almost dead. I tore my eyes back to the sheet, the sheet that covered Cedric's body.

"Everyone else, follow me out and–" Dumbledore continued.

Dumbledore motioned to lead us all out into the hall, but I refused to move. Everyone else walked out the door and looked back at me. Dumbledore turned about halfway to stare at me. All I could do was stare at Cedric's body.

"Miss McKinnon?" said Dumbledore slowly.

"I saw what happened," I breathed. "I saw everything."

I heard Molly stifle a loud sob as she stepped forward to console me. Bill stopped her, and I was appreciative. I noticed the ears of the large black dog perked up. I walked slowly to beside the covered body of Cedric, my back to everyone behind me.

"I had a vision," I went on. "It was so real, like I was there. I saw– I saw– him die."

I gently placed my hand atop the pristine white sheet and pulled it down to reveal Cedric's pale face. His eyelids had been pushed down to hide his eyes that stared without seeing. I could still see his blank eyes, dead and listless as if he had never lived at all. My entire body shuddered, the linen falling from my fingertips as I gripped my aching abdomen. I stepped back for a moment, hearing several gasps from behind me. I stepped back though, a second later, unafraid of the lifeless being before me. I hovered over his upper body, adjusting a fallen piece of hair upon his head.

I can't claim to call Cedric a best friend by any means. He was a friend, yes, but he was not a person I would admittedly grieve decades over. To me, Cedric symbolized something much more than just an innocent bystander. He was a symbol of the power I held, the power I held to prevent death, to prevent the inevitable. I stared down at that lifeless figure, and I knew from that day forward that I was going to dedicate myself to maturing my abilities. I refused to let another person lose their life when I had the power to prevent it. Never again would I allow anyone I care about to perish.

"It happened so fast," I said slowly. "He couldn't have felt any pain. That's one good thing about the killing curse, you know? They never feel it. I bet he didn't even know who killed him, who ordered his life to be stolen from him. And I bet he didn't even get to see his face."

"Who's face, Winnie?" asked Molly in a quiet tone, shaky from the core. "Who did this?"

"Voldemort," I said so casually it was like I was ordering a salad. Everyone shifted uneasily at the name I had grown up to fear. However, I didn't fear the word now. "He's back, you know."

I pulled the sheet back over Cedric's face and turned back to stare at the frightened faces behind me.

"Winnie, that isn't funny," Molly scolded. "How could you possibly joke about something like that at a time like this?"

"I'm telling the truth, d–" I paused, contemplating whether or not to finish my sentence in front of Molly. "_Damn it_."

"I believe you," said Dumbledore, earning a surprised glance from Molly who was still looking at me as if I'd just smacked her across the face.

"Thank you, sir," I breathed. "Soon–"

Suddenly, two screeching voices could be heard running towards the hospital wing. Dumbledore ceased his sentence and turned back at the intruders along with the rest of us.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva–" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out–"

Cornelius Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels. When the three entered the room, Snape's eyes fell upon me. I was almost surprised to see him. I imagined him fleeing into the woods or something equally dramatic. Snape's expression was sort of fearful or at least worried. I could tell he was anxious to know whether or not I had told anyone about our conversation. I glanced at him and shook my head slightly to answer his unasked question. He sent me a curt nod in reply and returned his gave onto the scene at hand.

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you – I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch–"

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"

None of us had ever seen Professor McGonagall lose control like that. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury–

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice; he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. "He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch–"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but–"

"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who looked just as angry as McGonagall, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous–"

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that – that _thing_ entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and – and–"

An uncomfortable chill swept over everyone in the room as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. We did not need her to finish her sentence. We all knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead. I would now be unable to help Snape, help Dumbledore, help Harry, – to help anyone.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" shouted Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths'."

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He would have never given us all the information we needed. He was off his rocker, mad as a hatter. You can't see into a lunatic's head!"

Dumbledore moved swiftly for an aging wizard. He stepped forward and gripped my wrist, pulling me before him and holding me firmly by my upper arms to face Fudge. It was as if he was showing me off.

"We had a Seer at our disposal, Cornelius!" Dumbledore argued fiercely. "Miss McKinnon could have retrieved all the necessary information from Barty Crouch had she been given the mere opportunity to penetrate his mind. However, she cannot see into the head of a man who has lost his mind and very soul to a dementor!"

Fudge stared at me as if he was frightened of what may have happened if I had been given the chance to see into the subconscious of Barty Crouch. He also appeared to be unimpressed with me as his upper lip twitched slightly.

"He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!" Fudge spat out. "It wouldn't have mattered what she saw!"

"Lord Voldemort was giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore. McGonagall gently reached her hand forward and pulled me back beside her. She wrapped her arm around me and soothingly petted my mop of hair in a maternal fashion.

"You-Know-Who… returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…"

"As Minerva and Severus have with no doubt told you," said Dumbledore, "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort –learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins – went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return. And we would no more, have the answers to questions we could not even fathom to ask if you would have allowed his mind to remain intact–"

"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, and I think we were all astonished to see a slight smile dawning on his face, "you – you can't seriously believe that You-Know-Who – back? Come now, come now… certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders – but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore…"

"He is back!" I objected swiftly, freeing myself from McGonagall's arms and striding forward to look into the eye of the Minister of Magic himself. "I saw him myself… in a vision."

"A vision is a far cry from substantial evidence to prove the return of the most dangerous wizard to walk the earth," said Fudge as if to degrade my intelligence.

"But Harry was there–" I objected. "And explain Cedric's death then."

"Mr. Diggory's death was a tragic accident–"

"It was no accident!" I shouted. "It was murder!"

"Dumbledore, I refuse to be spoken to in such a manner by one of your students," said Fudge, glaring down at me. "Has no one ever taught you to hold your tongue, child?"

"No, and may God have mercy on the first person who does," I replied curtly before McGonagall pulled me back once more.

"She is not a child, Cornelius," Dumbledore seethed, "and she speaks the truth. When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort. He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office. And I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered. He glanced at Harry's bed then to me, before looking back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are – er – prepared to take the girl's and Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by the big black dog growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

"Certainly, I believe them," said Dumbledore. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup as well as Miss McKinnon's vision; the three stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer and are identical."

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry and me before answering.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, a second-rate Seer and a boy who… well…"

Fudge shot Harry another look.

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," said Harry quietly.

All of us jumped beside Dumbledore. None of us had realized that Harry was awake. I thought he was still fast asleep behind us, but I guess the shouting must have put a stop to that. Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

"And if I have?" he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place–"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly – hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, taking a step toward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate an indefinable sense of power. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before…"

"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed, but Molly forced him back. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy–"

Snape made a sudden movement, but his eyes flew back to Fudge.

"Malfoy was cleared!" said Fudge, visibly affronted. "A very old family – donations to excellent causes–"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery – Nott – Crabbe – Goyle –"

"And Peter Pettigrew," I added coolly.

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore – the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too – his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them – the boy can talk to snakes. Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy? And for Merlin's sake, Peter Pettigrew was killed thirteen years ago by a supporter of You-Know-Who!"

"Well, obviously Sirius Black must have a different side to that story considering the man he went to Azkaban for murdering is doing some murdering all of his own!" I shouted, and I noticed the large black dog made a quiet bark from behind me.

"And what murdering are you implying this ghost has done?" Fudge retorted.

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic! Harry and Winnie are speaking the truth!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated. "If you accept that fact straightaway Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation."

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

And then there was silence. Madam Pomfrey was standing frozen at the foot of Harry's bed, her hands over her mouth. Molly was still standing over Harry, her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from rising. Bill, Ron, Hermione, the twins, McGonagall and I were staring at Fudge.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I – I shall act as I see fit."

Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger. "I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me–"

"The only one against whom I intend to work," said Dumbledore, "is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be…"

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

"There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned."

As odd as it may sound, I was rather proud of Snape for stepping forward. I knew how opposed he was to the idea of revealing his prior allegiances, just mere hours ago. However, he considered the circumstances and revealed his secret before several people he had no interest in telling his secret too. It was mildly selfless of the smelly git.

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.

"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…"

Fudge crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the rest of us around Harry's bed.

"There is work to be done," he said. "Molly… am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," said Molly. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," said Dumbledore. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," said Bill, standing up. "I'll go now."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry–"

"Leave it to me," said Bill. "I will send word to Charlie in Romania as well."

He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.

"Minerva," said Dumbledore, turning to Professor McGonagall, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also – if she will consent to come – Madame Maxime."

Professor McGonagall nodded and hugged me against her once more before leaving without a word.

"Poppy," Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very – very well," said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

The large black dog walked elegantly forward and sat down next to me now that I stood alone. It peered up at me and if a dog could smile proudly then that would be how I'd describe the animal's expression. I absent-mindedly petting the Irish wolfhound's head, scratching behind his ears. However, only an instant later, I released a quiet yet terrified involuntary screech. An image flashed before my eyes, a picture of that very dog transforming into a man I recognized from the papers and from a long lost dream. I leapt back as everyone else's eyes fell upon me.

"Impressive, Miss McKinnon, honestly," said Dumbledore in a gentle tone. "I see you have transitioned me into the next item on my docket. It is time for all of us to recognize each other for what we are. Sirius, if you could resume your usual form."

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed. I clasped my hand over my mouth. The twins stood motionless in shock. Ron and Hermione didn't seem the slightest bit disturbed for some reason. Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

"Winnie McKinnon," Sirius Black smirked as if we were in a casual conversation, looking me up and down in an odd sort of way that made me less than comfortable.

"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. "What is he doing here?"

"It's Sirius Black!" Molly shrieked, pointing at him.

"Mum, shut up!" Ron yelled. "It's okay!"

"Great phoenix feathers, it is you!" I spouted out, and even in all the chaos of everything, the twins paused with wrinkled brows to turn and look at me.

"_Great phoenix feathers_?" they said in unison. "Who are you, Aunt Muriel?"

"Shut up, it just came out!" I objected.

"They say that we always show are true colors in a time of crisis," said Fred.

"And you came up with 'Great phoenix feathers,'" said George in faux judgmental tone ask Fred made a repetitive 'tsk' sound against the inside of his cheek. "I don't know who you are anymore, Freddie."

"Well, they always say, 'Birds of a feather…'" I replied.

"Get gobbled up by the Whomping Willow?" Fred smirked.

"Ahem," Molly interrupted, tight lipped with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Oh, so sorry!" said Fred in a way that made it sound nothing like an apology. "Forgot you lot were there."

"It happens a lot actually, even more than you would think," I shrugged.

"Oh, yeah," said George. "But back to what you were carrying on about You-Know-Who being back, Sirius Black being a dog 'n all that… right 'o carry on then."

We sent matching pleading grins that were not well received except by Dumbledore who sported a sort of gentle half grin. Dumbledore had always appreciated the three of us, and as I grew old I don't think it was just because of our humorous antics. I think it was because we acted as if we were blood without actually being so. Sirius Black had an expression that almost appeared impressed.

"As I was saying… Sirius is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between the two men, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

It looked like Dumbledore was asking for a near miracle. Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

"I will settle, in the short term," said Dumbledore, with a bite of impatience in his voice, "for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any us.

Very slowly – but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill - Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between them once more. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, and Mundungus Fletcher – the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"But–" said Harry.

Harry looked pained to see Sirius leave. This was all increasingly confusing.

"You'll see me very soon. Harry," said Sirius, turning to him. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah… of course I do."

Sirius grasped his hand briefly and turned for the door. He sent me a quick wink, making a clicking sound on the inside of his cheek as I furrowed my brows at him. Sirius then nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

"Well, that was weird," I said under my breath and the twins nodded their agreement.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready… if you are prepared…"

"I am," said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

"Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

"And so was that," Fred whispered.

All the happening in the hospital wing had been more than confusing. I was still trying to come to terms with my vision let alone what it actually meant for the future and past. Cedric had died, and I was helpless to stop it. Harry had witness Voldemort's return. Fudge wouldn't take Dumbledore's word. Apparently, Sirius Black was… er– is a dog, and remembered me. All anyone could do was just evolve with the situation. We had no other options.

It was several minutes before Dumbledore spoke again. He turned solemnly to me, his robes sweeping as he looked down upon me, his stature even more intimidating than usual. He placed his hands gently on my shoulders like a parent, trying to instill a serious sentiment.

"I need you to understand, Miss McKinnon," said Dumbledore slowly and poignantly. "I need you to understand that there is a very strong chance that in the near future you will be hunted."

I gave a look as if he'd lost his head, but he ignored my expression and continued. I heard Molly shudder.

"You possess an ability that is not only rare but exceedingly sought after," he went on. "You are able to see whether a human being will live or die, what a person is thinking, what they are hiding, if they are lying, and most importantly you are able to see what they are truly capable of."

"You think that they would want to kill me?" I breathed. "They'd want to kill me, so I couldn't use my ability for good; to help you, sir?"

"To the contrary," he sighed. "I fear that Lord Voldemort and what followers he has left and who he will gather together will want to attempt to use you to their advantage, as if you were some sort of weapon at their disposal."

"I would never let that happen, sir," I insisted. "I assure you."

"You may not have a choice, I'm afraid," he frowned. "The Imperius curse is nearly impossible to fight."

I swallowed hard.

"I just need you to be aware of any threats that may come your way in the future. I gave your grandmother the same warning before the last Wizarding War," said Dumbledore. "Be vigilant. Be aware. Be careful."

"But, I would never hide, I want to help you, sir," I said. "I want to put what I can do to good use."

"Winnie, you are just a child," said Molly.

"I'm of age," I objected.

"And still in school," said Molly.

"I do not wish to involve myself in family affairs, but I would like it to be known that if you do come to some sort of agreement, Miss McKinnon could prove to be of some assistance in the future," he nodded to Molly. "However, I do not wish to cause any sort of rift."

"We will discuss it later," she sighed.

"Fine," I conceded.

"For now, I must go downstairs," said Dumbledore finally. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry – take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."

Dumbledore disappeared and all of us just looked at Harry. None of us spoke for a very long time.

"You've got to take the rest of your potion Harry," Molly said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on Harry's bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while… think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

"I don't want that gold," said Harry in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have won it. It should've been Cedric's."

Harry just blinked and stared up at the ceiling.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Molly whispered.

"I told him to take the cup with me," said Harry.

Molly set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. There was a loud slamming noise a moment later, and Molly and Harry broke apart. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Your potion, Harry," said Molly quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Harry fell back onto his pillows and drifted off into a deep sleep. As soon as Harry was unconscious, Molly turned back to the rest of us with tears glistening in her eyes. She looked beside herself, we all were really.

"Everything is going to be alright," she said.

I know she didn't know herself if her words were true, but she knew that was what she had to say and what she needed to say. All any of us could do was nod. There was nothing to say. We all knew everything was definitely not going to be alright, far from it, but we were all smart enough to realize that for that solitary moment in time we were all together – we were all safe – we were all alive.

–

"You missed a bit by her ear," said Fred softly, motioning to a spot of blood on my earlobe with his hand.

Fred sat with his back against the stone wall of the clock tower corridor while George and I sat in the large windowsill that overlooked the grounds. A bowl of warm water and cloth sat between us. George had offered to help clean me up after… everything. I closed my eyes as he gently tilted my head towards him and dabbed the remainder of the blood from my face. I mouthed "Thanks" to him and he merely nodded, sending me a quiet and sad smile in return. The water in the bowl, cloth included, was now stained red. I stared down at it as if in some sort of eerie trance, recalling the day's events and fearing everything that would come. My chest contracted in fear, remembering how I felt when I lost control, when I initially saw the blood and felt the relentless, unyielding pain. George noticed and instantly chucked the entire basin out the window onto the grounds below without a second thought. I heard a couple disgruntled shouts from below, but neither of us bothered to look down.

The three of us hadn't said much since we'd left the hospital wing, surprising enough. It must have been the shock, the sheer chaos the silenced us for a short while. Crowds were still gathered on the grounds though they had begun to dwindle, everything was so backwards now. I couldn't imagine going back to life as usual.

"I'm afraid," I said quietly after a long period of silence.

"Don't be, Freddie," said George, "Nothing is going to happen to you. Dumbledore said–"

"If they come after me, they could come after you two to get to me," I said, "or after Ron, or Ginny – Charlie – Bill or Molly or Arthur."

"Or Oliver," said Fred softly.

"Yes," I said, blinking and trying to conceal the fact that I had unintentionally forgotten to include him, "_and Oliver_. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let that happen."

"Let's not have a panic attack before we have a reason to," said Fred. "When you see me lying dead somewhere then you have my permission to panic like a bleeding maniac but there is no use worrying about something that may or may not happen. Okay, Win?"

"I can't honestly make that promise," I replied.

"Then lie," said Fred.

"Then I solemnly swear," I smirked, holding up my right hand.

"Good, that's settled," said George.

"At least one thing is," I sighed.

"I don't remember the last war," said Fred. "I don't know what it to expect."

"Me either," George and I said in unison. The twins gave me a surprised look. "Well, most of it. You know what I mean."

"I reckon everything is going to change now," said Fred.

"We have to stick together," said George, "no matter what."

"Always," I smiled softly.

"We will just work twice as hard on starting up the shop," said Fred. "We can implement our mail-order owl delivery idea again. That can keep our minds occupied this summer. We just need to stay busy with other things."

"Agreed," we replied.

That's all we could do. Keep busy. Keep our minds on other things while the inevitable loomed in the impending future.

–

"I'm going to the Owlery to write Oliver," I said, noticing May out of the corner of my eye. She was prancing along with Crookshanks without a care in the world. I picked her up into my arms and hugged her tight, turning back to the twins. "I'll be fine. Meet up with you later."

"I'll go with you," said George.

"I'm fine, really," I insisted.

"I know you are," said George, a quiet smile gracing his lips, "but I need the exercise. I'm getting a bit thick around the middle, and I could use the walk."

"You are getting a bit pudgy," I smirked, "and I suppose I could use the company."

"I'll go and see to Ginny then," said Fred, glancing back over his shoulder at the impending darkness. "I reckon Mum has gone and scared her half to death by now."

George and I nodded and took off for the Owlery. We walked in silence but a comfortable silence, only May's gently purring could be heard. The candles magically began to illuminate as we climbed higher and higher in the castle. We passed several crowds of students in heated conversations, and I realized how pleased I was that no knew of vision besides a handful of people who would not breathe a word. I felt terrible for Harry at the same time. I wished he didn't have to be seen as a pariah when he was a hero.

Suddenly, I felt a large callused hand grip my upper arm and pull me into a narrow corridor. The dim lighting allowed me to see it was Karkaroff instantly. His expression was mangled and distressed. His usual hat was missing and his peppered hair was askew along with his beard. May released a furious hiss as George appeared behind me. His eyes narrowed when he saw Karkaroff, gritting his teeth.

"What do you want?" George sneered.

"I wish to speak with her alone," said Igor, glaring at George in a deranged fashion.

George stood his ground, and I was impressed. George was a tall bloke, but Karkaroff was tall enough to tower over him. He was a massive being to stand up to. I placed my palm on George's abdomen and smiled up in reassuringly.

"It's alright, mate," I said, "I've got May with me. She's got claws. No worries."

"I'll be standing right outside," he said.

George didn't break his glare on Karkaroff until he departed the corridor. Karkaroff didn't speak again until George was completely gone. I didn't understand what was going on, just adding one more thing to the list.

"I wanted to see you once more before I leave," he said.

"I thought Durmstrang and Beauxbatons weren't leaving until the Leaving Feast," I replied.

"They are not, but I am," he said.

"Merlin's beard, you're running away," I said as if I should have known all along. "_Merlin's beard_? _Phoenix feathers_? Who am I?"

Karkaroff gave me a curious look before I continued.

"Er– right, sorry," I said, "but you're leaving now? Why?"

He lifted his sleeve to reveal his dark mark that was as active as Snape's I swallowed hard and met his eyes.

"Are you going to help _him_?" I asked quietly. "Are you going to be a Death Eater again?"

"No," he said. "I am too much of a coward. I betrayed my cohorts years ago, and I know now that there will be a prize on my head. I have no choice but to flee. They will come after me, and they will not rest until I am dead."

"Where will you go?" I asked.

"I don't know," he replied, "but this will certainly be the last time you will ever see me alive."

I don't really know if he expected me to be sad to hear the news or what, but I didn't have a reaction at all. I just stood there, staring blankly up at him. I didn't know what I was supposed to say or if I should say anything at all, so I said nothing. I felt nothing. I wasn't sad by any means, but I wasn't happy either.

"I just needed you to know that you were right," he said, pausing a moment, "After everything I've done, I've never– I've never forgotten that night. I've never forgotten your mother's face, your face. I killed so many without a second thought, but–"

He cleared her throat and blinked a couple times, his eyes hazy with tears.

"I just wanted you to know that I meant what I said to you before," he said. "I live with unyielding regret, with the constant memory of what I have done – with what I have done to you. I have done so many terrible things in my life, but when I see you here – _now_ – I can almost convince myself that– I have done one decent thing in my miserable life of murder and undeserved pomposity. I speak to you now as a broken coward of a man, and I will die a sniveling, broken coward – alone. And I deserve nothing more."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I just– I just–" he began. "I want you to know, I need you to know that I am sorry for everything I have done to you, to your mother, your father. That is why I am telling you all this."

I stared at him for a long time with no intention of responding without thinking long and hard about what I would say to him. It would, in fact, be the last words I would ever speak to the man, and I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't regret them. When I didn't reply for a few moments longer Karkaroff pushed away his tears and slung his bag that had been hidden away beside him over his shoulder. He placed his palm on my cheek, and I did not deny his touch. He tilted my face up to look into my eyes, the eyes of my father one last time before striding by me. May was hugged to close to me that I feared she would suffocate. I kept my back to him, but I didn't want him to see my eyes again.

"If you want to hear me say 'I forgive you', Igor, I forgave you long ago," I said slowly, and I didn't need to see his face to know a faint glimmer of a smile graced his lips. "However, I cannot speak for my parents."

I tilted my head to the side to watch as Karkaroff paused for just a moment more before he disappeared into the night, and I knew I would never see him again. George appeared not a second later.

"You OK?" he asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

"Getting there," I smiled softly, leaning my head against him.

–

Dumbledore had made a very moving speech about Cedric's death and Voldemort's return at the Leaving Feast, so we decided to lighten the mood on the train ride back to King's Cross with some fireworks. It was all very appropriately inappropriate. We threw fireworks all along the train corridors, tossing sparklers at the feet of newly initiated Second Years as we darted by. We skidded to a halt once we spotted Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, standing in a threatening position outside of a compartment. Over their bulbous shoulders I spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione inside. Simultaneously, the six of us drew our wands and blasted six different spells at the three Slytherins. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, I blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their feet.

"Thought they were up to no good," said Fred matter-of-factly, extending his hand to help me into the compartment by stepping onto Goyle like a proper gentleman. Fred and I still had our wands out, and so did George, who was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed us inside.

"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, Fred and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle – each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit – out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

"Did you even have to ask?" I grinned.

We were halfway through our fifth game when Harry asked a question that I am sure was on his mind for some time as well as Ron's.

"You going to tell us, then?" he asked to George. "Who were you blackmailing?"

"Oh," said George darkly. "That."

"It doesn't matter," said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging.

"Oh, go on and tell them," I said, continuing with my turn. "It doesn't really matter now anyhow."

"All right, all right, if you really want to know… it was Ludo Bagman," said Fred.

"Bagman?" said Harry sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in–"

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Ah, much like the gits who made a bet with him in the first place," I said under my breath but loud enough for them to hear.

"What?" said Ron.

Fred hesitated, then said, "What Freddie is so obscurely trying to mention is that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup. You remember, about how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah," said Harry and Ron slowly.

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So," said Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"But – it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione.

George laughed very bitterly.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first," said George.

"No, that is what I suggested at first, but they would have nothing of it," I smirked, earning a playful glare from the twins. "Oh, so sorry, this is your deluded tale. Please, go on."

"Well, we thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. He ignored our letter," George went on. " We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering.

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!" said Ron.

"Tell me about it," said George. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" said Harry.

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" said Harry. "Well – I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope," said George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

"But your gold–" started Ron. "You wanted to start something with your inventions and now–"

"I always thought Winnie would finance whatever endeavors you three organized," said Hermione.

"No," said Fred and George in unison.

"They refuse to let me contribute anymore–"

"–or any less," said Fred.

"Right," I smirked, "than either of them."

"We are equal partners in whatever we do, always have been," said Fred.

"Always will be," said George.

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again. We locked eyes, and I sent him a half smile that he returned.

The rest of the journey passed pleasantly enough, but the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters seemed to come far too soon. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put along with the three of us.

"Fred – George – Winnie – wait a moment."

The three of us turned back. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings.

"Take it," he said, and he thrust the sack into George's hands.

"What?" said the three of us in unison, all of us looking flabbergasted.

"Take it," Harry repeated firmly. "I don't want it."

"You're mental," said George, trying to push it back at Harry.

"No, I'm not," said Harry. "You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."

"He is mental," Fred said in an almost awed voice.

"Listen," said Harry firmly. "If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."

"Harry," said George weakly, weighing the money bag in his hands, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here."

"Yeah," said Harry, grinning. "Think how many Canary Creams that is."

The three of us stared at him.

"Just don't tell your mum where you got it… although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it…"

"Harry," Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.

"Look," he said flatly, "take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now."

I instantly projected myself forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, nearly suffocating the poor bloke. I kissed his cheek and squeezed him once more before pulling away.

"Thank you, Harry," I whispered.

"Don't mention it," he replied.

"Harry – thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

He went to leave the compartment, stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks.

"And Harry," I said abruptly, forcing him to pause and turn back for a second more. "You and me, we've always been– I mean, you and me– I know sometimes you feel like no one understands… like you're all alone. If anyone can relate, I mean… I am the closest–"

"I know, Win," he said, knowing exactly what I meant, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," I smirked.

Molly was waiting beyond the barrier. Oliver was close by her, waiting for me with a thick set of bandages around his head. The future was supposed to be my specialty. I was born with a gift to see into what others sought to be the unknown. However, even I was blind to what was to come now that the unthinkable had happened. All I could do was live, to survive. I couldn't even think about the foolish situation I had between George and Oliver. It didn't really seem to matter now. I would just have to start trusting myself from now on, trusting my gut. If that led me to George then wonderful, then again, maybe we were always destined to be nothing more than star crossed lovers.

–

_**PART III**_

–

"_**DOUBLE CROSSED"**_

–

_The prologue for "**Double Crossed**" has been posted. Please check for it on my profile page. Thanks so much to Harper Granger-Weasley for the suggestion! You are brilliant! I really hope you all review. It means so very much to me. If you've never reviewed before please give me a shout, don't be afraid. Some highlights from Part III which I think will be the most epic parts are: the Oliver/Winnie/George triangle ends for good with an engagement?, Weasley Wizard Wheezes goes on strong, the twins and Winnie are not fans of Delores Umbridge, Winnie's powers grow stronger, The Order of the Phoenix brings up more tales of Winnie's mother and father, Mrs. Weasley finds out some unnerving news from... the news, Sirius and Winnie bond, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensue..._

–

_**PS**:I have received so much amazing feedback from all of you and I cannot thank you enough. In this series more than any other story I have ever written, I have received countless reviews from so many people who have never left any reviews on any story before this one. I am so touched and inspired by that. You have no idea. As an aspiring writer, I could not ask for more amazing readers. I have gotten so much wonderful feedback as well as fantastic constructive criticism throughout this series, and I appreciate it more than you know. Each one of you means a lot to me, and words cannot do justice to express my gratitude enough. _

_**PSS:** The wonderful Tumblerose has offered to read for Winnie if anyone is interested in listening to this story as an audio story. I say that because if anyone else (with European accents) is willing to offer their voices to any roles then please let me know! Rose has already read The Seer Sighted and the Prologue for Part III, and she is AMAZING! I can't thank her enough! I hope it all works out=)_

_**Finally**, if any of you have any questions along the way or critiques then feel free to message me. I promise to respond. My readers are what inspire me to keep writing. I mean that wholeheartedly._

_**SHOUT OUTS RETURN FOR CHAPTER ONE OF PART III**_

_**Love Always,**_

_**Mila**_

–

_Review._


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